


The Killer in Me, In You

by orphan_account



Category: Incredible Hulk (2008), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Clint!Whump, F/M, M/M, Tony!Whump, Violence, Werewolf, h/c
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-10 01:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 93,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a mission for SHIELD, Tony is attacked by a creature strong enough to take apart his armour. After the attack he's forced to come to grips that he's changing, and learn how to control himself. Eventual Tony/Bruce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A re-post from ffn.net that a few may recognize... I don't have much to say at the moment so, enjoy :)

"We're about ten clicks out Tony, prepare to deploy," said Bruce Banner, belted into the passenger's seat of the SHIELD _Black Wolf_ Class transport. He held a Jarvis enabled tablet in his hands. It provided a continually updating readout of the conditions. Rain pelted the windshield, the outside world dark and in the clutches of a storm.

"It's going to be a rough flight, Stark," said Natasha Romanoff, who was piloting. Lightning struck somewhere beyond to punctuate her words, and thunder crashed, exposing the wilderness beyond. Wind buffeted the wings and the entire craft swayed.

"Yeah, yeah, just tell me when to jump," Tony groused, doing a quick double check of his armour. He hated doing Fury's dirty work. Investigating a downed meteorite out in the boonies of British Colombia wasn't really his thing. He had work to do in his lab with Bruce. The two of them were enabling his suit for short burst space flight, and doing a stupid errand collecting a bit of space debris for SHIELD was getting in his damn way.

"Alright, we're in level with the object. The crash site is five clicks due east. According to the brief satellite imagery we've been able to pick up it'll be in the middle of a crater approximately twenty feet deep and forty feet across, amongst a lot of debris," said Bruce, pulling up a 3D image of the area in question. The crater was nestled into the roots of the mountain, surrounded by broken granite and splintered wood. "All of my scans detect low amounts of radiation, especially gamma radiation. Your suit, and the work I've done to your arc reactor, should prevent any contamination. Once you've gathered enough samples, come on back. Good luck, Tony."

Tony nodded, jaw tight, as his mask slipped over his face. Natasha flipped a switch and the ramp began to lower, exposing the dark night beyond. Wind and rain whipped inside, splattering the interior, as red warning lights flashed.

With a hum his thrusters primed and he rocketed out into the blustering night. The wind tried to push him but his compensators kept up easily as he flew low, skimming the tops of the towering pines and cedars. Light bounced off of the cliffs around him with every flash of lightning.

Jarvis uploaded the images in the screen before him, providing a constant readout of the area. Bruce's face appeared, tired and smiling, on his heads up display.

"You're getting close now," he said.

"Thanks, couldn't see that."

Bruce rolled his eyes. It was a clear sign of Banner's unending patience that he could just absorb all of Tony's sarcasm without turning into the Hulk. He'd been dealing with a snarky Stark all night. Between friction with Pepper and Tony being a bitch about going and doing a mission for Fury it was a credit to his character.

"Tell me again why I'm here," said Tony as he broke through the tree cover. The crater in question appeared below him and he began to slow, circling the wreckage. Jarvis's scanners began to pick apart what he was seeing and transmitted all the data back to Bruce.

"Well, dropping me in the middle of a potentially dangerous situation could result in the Other Guy stomping all over precious evidence," said Bruce, who wasn't looking at the camera anymore. "Rogers and Barton are busy saving the world in Europe, and Thor of course is abroad."

Tony sighed while Bruce smiled. "We could be working on the Mark XI."

"I believe Pepper threatened to have the lab deadlocked until further notice and disinfected until we both stopped living in it," he said, his voice serene.

One of the hazards of their new 'Science Bro' status was that they tended to get absorbed into a project to the point where new and interesting forms of life began to grow out of discarded Chinese takeout boxes and they missed a shower or two.

"Pepper-shmepper, this is progress we're talking about." Tony didn't want to think about Pepper. They'd had one of many blow-outs earlier that evening. Tony couldn't even remember how it had started, but he was sure it was his fault. It usually was.

Tony touched down low in the crater, analyzing the scans. There wasn't much in the clearing - Jarvis pointed out several interesting pieces of a meteorite, but there was nothing remotely resembling technology or bizarre alien _anything._ Thinking to himself about a night well wasted, he began to dredge through the mud, setting the case he'd brought close at hand. He and Bruce had designed it to prevent any gamma contamination to anyone that handled it, and Bruce had thoughtfully upgraded his arc reactor to withstand any poisoning. Voila, Fury had decided he was a perfect candidate, so here Tony was, digging for bits of radioactive rock in the muck.

His sensors lit up as he picked up the shards that Jarvis had indicated and held them up before his visor. The rain made quick work of the mud, exposing shiny, twisted metal.

"What do you think, Bruce?" he asked.

"Could be pieces of an artefact," was the easy reply. They certainly looked like some kind of tempered steel, which meant it wasn't your run of the mill meteor. "You'll have to gather a few more to get a better idea of what it is. Maybe go down further and see what's at the epicentre?"

He snapped the case shut and made his way down to ground zero. Jarvis informed him that radiation levels were higher, but manageable with the arc reactor alone, so he lifted his mask to stare down at the mud with his own eyes.

Something had been there, a kind of pattern, but it was washing away as the rain and mud pooled in the rock and filled what had been there.

"Jarvis, what can you make of that?"

_"I'm attempting to extrapolate the possible pattern due to runoff from the rain, but it is difficult sir."_

"Forward what you've got to Bruce and see if he can make any sense of it. Anything down there?"

_"Just a few more pieces of metal much like what you have already collected."_

Tony sighed and knelt, digging through the debris, pulling up more tiny scraps. There was a sound to his left, several rocks skittering down the mild incline of the crater. He glanced up, narrowing his eyes. His regular vision couldn't penetrate the darkness, so he snapped the mask up.

"Jarvis, give me a quick thermal scan of the area. We're looking for life forms."

_"Sir, the prior scans indicated no sign of life."_

"Just do it, Jarvis." He put the last of the scraps into the case while the program booted and ran. He heard another skitter of rock and a high, sharp howl.

Tony flinched, stepping back. His boot slipped on a rock and he sunk into the deep pool of water that had gathered. "What the hell was that?"

_"Most people would call it a wolf, sir."_

Tony snorted, unimpressed. "Is your sass patch over-clocked?"

"I do believe his self-teaching software and your sarcasm are a bad influence on Jarvis," said Banner.

The thermal imaging came up, imposing it over his real-time view. At the top of the ridge just beyond where the trees began again was a small image, but the bulk of it was hidden away. He felt his stomach tighten just a little as he tried to step out of the puddle and gain his bearings.

"Prime the weapons systems."

Bruce's voice came out of the speakers, sounding concerned. "Tony, is everything alright down there?"

"Peachy-keen, Doc. Just a really big wolf out here looking for a snack. Get anything from that info Jarvis sent you?"

"Nothing yet. Looks vaguely Nordic, but I don't have much experience dealing with that sort of thing. Not really my field. Although, there are some disturbing pieces to the pattern leading away to the north east."

"Leading away?" asked Tony, raising his hands. Leading meant footprints. And the Big Bad Wolf was to the north east.

"Be careful. Natasha and I are circling around for pick-up where we let you out."

"Ten-four. Couldn't be happier to get the hell away."

Tony was about to take off when the infrared image quadrupled in size and another howl rang out. It wasn't one of his prouder moments when, instead of taking off, he tried to back pedal and slipped on a mud-slicked rock. He went down in a spray of water, sending his case flying off into the darkness. The _thing_ launched down the crater wall at him, scrabbling over rocks and bits of snapped logs.

"Jarvis, get the infrared off, let me see this bastard!" he snapped, raising his hands. There was a high, keening whine as he blasted the beast. It _dodged,_ weaving down the wall as bits of debris flew. He blasted it a few more times, but it was ready for him every time.

The infrared dropped and Tony had just enough time to see a shaggy, hairy _something_ fill his vision and descend on him. Something sharp began to drag along his armour, scraping like claws. There was pressure at the weak point on his neck as something - _ohshititsbitingme -_ started to squeeze, ripping back and forth trying to find purchase.

"FUCK OFF!" he roared. "JARVIS, two hundred percent into the blasters, I don't give a damn about the power drain!" His blasters fired, flashing brighter than the lightning. The thing was thrown off of him with a ripping snarl, its fur sizzling around an open wound. Whatever it was hit the rocks opposite him and rolled, once, before it crouched and sprang again. There was a bolt of lightning, but the light didn't reveal anything that made sense.

Tony felt his heart climbing, he could hear Bruce yelling into the headset trying to figure out what the hell was wrong, but this was beyond anything Tony had ever dealt with.

The thing - whatever it was - was the biggest fucking wolf he'd ever seen. He didn't even know they could _get_ that fucking big. It was as big as a bear. A _grizzly_ bear. Maybe bigger. Pure muscle, matted and wet fur, mad glowing eyes. _Silver_ eyes.

"Jesus _Christ!"_ He fired his full power into the beasts stomach. It twisted to the side, shrieking in pain before it swiped at his face. Tony yelped as the golden cover of the mask and the display system was swept off, could hardly feel the pain as its claws sliced through his cheek. He heard his mask land somewhere nearby, felt the rain pelting his face and blinked blood from his eyes. The creature roared, a snarling, guttural sound, as it ripped at his armour plating. Its eyes were even more pronounced, completely _alien._

He forced back against the beast, but he wasn't able to dislodge it. "Jarvis, thrusters at full capacity!"

His boots sparked and flared, but the creature's grip was too tight. The two of them rocketed backwards, slamming into a piece of granite which fractured under the force. The creature rolled, tossing him like a ragdoll, before it leapt upon him, slamming its paws _(hands?)_ against him again and again, crushing his chest, arms, legs, whatever it could reach. He could still hear Jarvis reading off the destruction to the suit, to Tony's body - _his body was on fire with pain -_ the impact strength was rivaled only by Thor and the Hulk.

He fired a shot, this time into its neck, and it yelped in pain. Tony could smell singed wet fur, the reek of its humid breath. Its claws started to pry underneath of his armour at his neck, slicing though his skin.

"BRUCE!" he was screaming, as he fired again. It knocked his hand aside, clamping its jaw around his arm. He heard the crack as his arm started to fracture under the pressure, pain twisting up his entire body. _"JESUSBRUCEPLEASEHURRYTHEFUCKUPANDHELPME!"_

Tony rolled, trying to protect his face and reactor, but the creature tore the back plate off of him, its claws dragged through his flesh, and he felt his body jerked back. He could feel the _poppoppop_ of its teeth puncturing his shoulder, its jaws twisting. He wasn't even sure he was screaming anymore, but he was choking, on rainwater, on blood, on mud, he was gagging, the pain was unbelievable.

For the first time he felt, truly felt, the weight of his own mortality. He hadn't felt that way against Obadiah when he ordered Pepper to kill them both, or when Vanko had attempted to kill him and blow up the damn city. Not even when he'd been cradling a fucking _nuke._ No, that had all been a mixture of noble self-sacrifice and riding his own fucking danger high. This was different, this was _terrifying._ He wished he'd died in Afghanistan, because the terror of the explosions and rattle of bullets wasn't even close to being ripped apart and eaten alive.

There was a crunch that spiked up his back before this lower half disappeared. It hadn't been shorn or ripped away. He knew only because he would have died of shock. The thing had crushed his spine. It was comforting, in a way, to know it would be over soon.

Something like thunder was echoing through the crater, and a shadow slammed into the ground above his head. He didn't know people hallucinated when they died, but perhaps it was the pain. He could swear there was a giant foot next to his head.

The creature was snarling, howling, and the feet disappeared as more thunder _(it sounded like cries of rage, it was so loud it was shaking the ground around him)_ reverberated through the crater. Its scraping, loathsome weight was no longer at his shoulders, and he could hear crashes, yelps and snaps getting further away... he didn't care, though... the rain, the sound, even the pain was drifting... drifting...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of my medical knowledge, radiation and understanding of Norse Mythology comes from wiki and google... so... bear with me?

There was nothing gradual and comforting as Tony came out of the dark. First there was rain, then the darkness, and then _this._ He wondered if death should hurt as much as it did, and thought about how unfair it was. Hadn't he suffered enough yet?

"...Extensive fractures to his right humerus, and both his femurs and tibias. Dislocated left shoulder and right elbow, shattered left clavicle..."

Tony could hear a voice cutting through a myriad of beeping, alarms, and a rush of panicked voices. He needed that voice, had to find it. Lethargy pressed down on him, spread over him like a heavy blanket. He forced his eyes open but couldn't stop them from rolling back into his head. Bright white light glared down at him, shapes were moving around the bed. He tried to curl his fingers, to get up, to find the voice, to beg them to _just fucking kill him._ His shoulder was pulsing where each tooth had sunk deep, his bones felt like shards of glass digging into his flesh, like an iron maiden digging slowly into his muscles.

He tried to speak, but he couldn't make sense of anything, make words come out right. He could taste blood and dirt in his mouth turning to mud in his saliva. He gagged, wanted to throw up. He winced away from hands that were assaulting him, their pressure forcing the shards deeper and deeper into him. They were torturing him!

"...T-12 disc in the Thoracic nerves and down to L5 of the Lumbar nerves has been... Jesus, it's been completely crushed."

"He's coming to, Dr. Banner."

Banner swore. "Alright, I want 600 mg of lidocaine with epinephrine stat. Jarvis, I want you to pull up a full body scan and put it to that screen there. There's been damage to his arc reactor. If we want him to live through surgery we're going to have to fix that before we can work on everything else. I'm going to need my tool kit."

Tony felt another wave of lethargy rolling over him but not all the pain subsided. It was like there was something else in his mind, something primal and angry. It was thrashing at its cage, snarling, trying to break free.

A wash of feverish heat moved down his back, pooling at the small of his back, growing hot like acid. Tony wanted to scream but the anaesthetic was making it as if his mouth was full of cloth. Something was on his chest, tugging at him. His heart started to thrum against his ribcage in erratic bursts. There was a spark and his entire abdomen jerked upwards as he gasped, the air sucked through his lungs like he was breathing in water.

The wave of heat and pain was concentrating in his back, his arms, his ribcage. Splinters of white hot metal were piercing him all over. He stared to thrash, trying to yell at Bruce, telling the doctor to kill him. The pain was beyond what the wolf had visited on him.

"Tony, I can't understand what you're trying to say, just please, I'm trying to-"

He tried to keep yelling through the fog, twisting his arms, trying to pound them against the bed but nothing was working properly.

How was the pain getting more severe? Tony thought he'd heard them say they were giving him drugs, but the howling in his mind was getting even louder, just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore everything got worse.

He found his voice, but it was weak. His throat felt like it was full of fish hooks, each word like a scratching fingernail. "Bruce, there's something in my head!"

"There's nothing in your head Tony, just try and be calm. The anaesthetic isn't working, we're going to have to sedate him. Give him 6mg of Lorazepam."

"There's something inside me! I'm not alone in here, there's something in my head!"

"Tony, you've _got to calm down._ Try to focus, okay? We're going to put you out so you won't feel anything anymore. There's nothing inside of you - damnit, his heart rate is out of control! He's going to go into cardiac arrest!"

"My back!" his body was twisting up, forcing against the hands that were holding him down. White hot wires were wrapped around his spine, constricting tighter and tighter. "It hurts, it hurts, please, _kill me!"_

There was a snap and Tony tried to cry out but no sound could come, like the wind had been pushed out of him. He'd thought there been an edge to his body but it doubled. He could feel his legs writhing on the gurney, his skin was hypersensitive to the cloth, to everyone's hands. He could see now through some kind of fog as Bruce bellowed orders at everyone in the room. The beast inside of his head, inside of everything, was howling, its claws were slicing and searing through his flesh and...

"His legs are moving, Dr. Banner!"

Bruce's voice was low, terrified, filled with disbelief. "That's impossible. Fuck, _that's impossible._ His spine was _shattered._ "

Tony felt a ripping sensation spread through his muscles. His mind, which had barely been able to cope with the pain, was rocketing forward. Rage followed the scream of the demon in his head. He had to get out, had to save himself. He could. He _would_. Strength surged as the painkillers must have finally kicked in. He was getting _out_ of that damn bed, and someone was going to _pay._

"Jarvis I need a blood tox done _now._ That thing did something to him."

Tony could hear something snarling in the room, like the wolf was there and it was going to kill someone. He didn't give a rats ass about most of these people, but he cared about Bruce, he had to save him from the creature.

His fists clenched, his muscles strained. He felt his joints crunching and popping, his ribcage snapping. His senses went into hyper drive - scents and sounds magnified, his vision got clearer as objects and colours grew more pronounced. He could hear the pounding heartbeats of everyone else in the room, could smell their fear.

He flinched at the feeling of weight on top of him. Bruce's face was over his, horrified, eyes burning green, hands hard on his shoulders. He was yelling, he could hear his name occasionally but nothing made sense.

"Bruce," he gasped as his chest jerked, jostling the gurney. _"Bruce, what's happening to me?"_

Bruce pulled something from his pocket, his face pale as he yanked the cap from a cylinder. Something pressed against his neck, there was a sting, and Tony jerked once before he slumped back, the rage withdrew, and his muscles relaxed. He sank into the blessed darkness.

`~+0+~`

When Bruce let himself into the debriefing room his entire body was shaking with fatigue. He was surprised to see Rogers, Thor and Agent Barton were there, and wondered when they'd gotten in. The entire team was seated around the round table, each of their expressions reflected the same worry. In a kneejerk reaction he wondered dully if they were afraid the Other Guy was going to come out, but berated himself - of course they were worried about Tony, not him. And he'd never been so in control of that aspect of himself as he was at that moment.

"You do not look well Bruce Banner," Thor's voice rumbled from across the table.

Bruce didn't even have the energy to roll his eyes. He fell into a leather chair, tossing his tablet aside with a clatter. He didn't think he could stay awake now that the adrenaline of the surgery room had worn off, and doubted that Fury would look kindly on him if he just fell asleep at the table.

"How... how is he?" Bruce glanced up in surprise at the concern in Steve Roger's voice.

"Stable... sleeping." He rubbed his face, wishing he could sleep too.

"Dr. Banner, Agent Romanoff, if you would please debrief us on your last mission," Nick Fury's voice held none of the usual impatience. It was almost gentle.

Bruce didn't make any motion to look up or speak, and heard Natasha clear her throat. Bruce listened, detached, as she described how the mission had gone, to the point where Tony had begun to scream over the intercom, and she'd tried to fly to the location before too much damage had been done. It was around that time that Bruce had lost it.

The idea that Tony was in danger had enraged both him and the Other Guy. He could remember Romanoff's horrified look as she caught sight of his eyes, and the sound of the cargo hatch opening. The last thing he could remember was the roar of the Hulk in his mind as he tore out of his safety belts and ran towards the open hatch. The stormy night had opened up to him as he'd leapt out into mid air without any notice of where he was pointed... After that it was all disjointed images and feelings, none of them good.

"After I landed I found Dr. Banner transforming back into his natural form. He was trying to apply on-scene first aide. The... creature... was neutralized. We placed Stark in the carrier and left for the home base immediately, and I radioed for a site cleanup."

"Do you have any idea what the creature was?"

"Undoubtedly alien," there was a click, the room dimmed, and the holoprojector booted up. Several shots obtained from Jarvis appeared on the screen, blurry photos taken during Tony's assault. "From what I could tell, it was wolf-like, covered in fur, and big." There was another click. "Stark scanned the area and found several  shards of metal. The debris appeared to be like tempered steel. When they are recovered we might be able to determine what they used to be. He also found evidence of a Einstein-Rosen Bridge. These images," she changed the picture again, "extrapolated by Jarvis, formed a vaguely Nordic pattern. We were hoping Thor could shed some more insight on what the creature could be."

Bruce lifted his head from his arms to look at Thor. The images from the surgery played in his mind, completely impossible. Tony's _eyes..._

"It does look like the pattern of the bifrost," said Thor, frowning at the slowly revolving picture before them. The image of the pattern was fractured, but resembled the intricate knot which Jane Foster featured in her research as the imprint from the 'bifrost' wormhole. "From Natasha Romanoff's description of the creature, the only conclusion I can draw is that the creature you encountered was an _ulfhedinn._

"Many years ago, when Asgard was at war with the frost giants, my father Odin had a pact with the creatures. We did not know what realm they originally came from, but something - a malfunction perhaps, with the bifrost - brought them to us. They were a group of men and women, savage and rowdy, living for the fight. They asked if they could be any service to us in our war, and despite their unpredictable natures my Father agreed to let them join us. We thought we could tame them, but when they entered battle or were faced with high emotions they would change into creatures of great power and they attacked friend and foe alike. When we could see that there was no controlling them my father banished them from Asgard into the far reaches of the universe. It is possible that one landed here, on Midgard."

"How long ago was this?" asked Rogers, frowning.

"Just over one millennia, by our reckoning, Captain Rogers."

"So how is it only _now_ getting here?"

"The bifrost is not impeded by time. The _ulfhedinn_ were scattered so they would not band together, and would perish in the universe alone."

Bruce swallowed. For once the physics involved with the bifrost didn't fill him with any wonder or curiosity. Tony's eyes burned in the back of his mind. "Tell me, were the creatures contagious?"

"I do not understand your meaning, Bruce Banner."

"If one of your own was bitten, did they get infected? Did they change like the _ulfhedinn_?"

Thor looked uncomfortable. "None of Asgard could be affected by their madness, but sometimes, if one strayed from the battle and found a human village..."

Bruce felt his mouth go dry.  His watch, a gift from his old girlfriend, began to beep as his heart rate started to climb. The _ulfhedinn_ were sounding too familiar for comfort. "What would happen?"

"They were animals, Bruce Banner. Wild things that weapons could not stop unless they were injured beyond their own ability to heal. And any humans left alive would join them as animals as well."

 _And so the myths and legends began,_ thought Bruce with a tightening in his chest. The silence around the briefing room was thick. Bruce didn't doubt they were all thinking the same thing, and the very idea that Tony could be a... He shook his head, refusing to think the word, like it might come true if he acknowledged it.

The quiet was broken by a series of beeps next to his hand. He looked down at the flashing display on his tablet. It was a message from Jarvis. Tony's tox screen had come back.

"Play," he said.

_"Sir, I have finished analyzing the blood sample from Mr. Stark."_

"And?"

The display changed, providing a picture of Tony's blood cells and toxicity levels. _"His blood toxicity levels have revealed high levels of gamma radiation, and the presence of a contaminant."_

At the word 'gamma radiation' his watch beeped faster. "What are the radiation levels?"

_"Approximately 5 siverts of radiation is being maintained within his body by the contaminant."_

"But that would be fatal!"

_"It appears that the contaminant has genetically modified Mr. Stark's cellular structure to withstand high levels and prevent cellular breakdown."_

"Show me the contaminant."

A picture of the contaminant cell appeared, rotating on the small screen. It wasn't the colour of his green, mutated cells, but there were several similarities he'd have to compare and break down. Whatever it was, it was alien. Possibly even engineered.

"Is it a virus?"

_"Comparable sir, but it is not destroying the parent cells. It is merely reproducing, altering the genetic coding within the parent cell, and moving on."_

"Fuck, _fuck!"_ he slammed his hand on the table. The glass cracked beneath his fist. He could hear pistols cocking - knew without looking up it would be Agent Hill, Fury, Barton and Romanoff, knew it was a useless gesture. He wasn't going to lose it. The Hulk had transformed back once he recognized that the 'Little Tin Man' needed Bruce's skills as a doctor, and had agreed to stay away until he was well again. He looked up to see the barrel of Agent Hill's gun trained on his face. "No need to point those at me. I'm fine, and they wouldn't do you any good. You know that."

He didn't blame them for their reactions. For them drawing a gun was as natural as closing your eyes in response to something dangerous or unexpected. He was a little disappointed that after all this time, though, they still thought that having a gun might somehow stop him if he really _was_ going to lose it.

"Please, I'll be fine. Tony needs me, more than ever now." He looked up, saw the confusion in everyone's eyes. Or perhaps it was denial and fear. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. "The virus, whatever it is, is mutating him, like what the gamma radiation did to me during my experiments. Tony's mutating into... well, I think he's becoming a... a - Jesus, I can't say it. Only, unlike me, he's going to be contagious."

Steve Roger's normally confident voice had a quaver to it. "What do you think he's becoming?"

Bruce supposed the supernatural and occult wasn't as popular in his day. "When Tony was in the medical bay, he started to change. His eyes, his body... basically, I think Tony Stark is becoming, well... a werewolf."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Copious angst, Fury get's -told-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mm... nothing interesting to say. Still just re-posting. Much love to those that reviewed so far! :3

The faint beep of heart monitors and equipment broke the stillness of the hospital room. The lights were dim, draping the room in a comforting shadow. The opaque glass walls hid the occupants from view from the rest of the med lab.

Bruce clutched a cold Styrofoam cup of coffee and leaned against the hospital bed, fighting the weight of his eyelids. He wanted to be there when Tony awoke. He remembered when he'd come to after his first 'episode.' He'd been so scared that it had forced him into another, and had taken days for him to calm down. He didn't want Tony to go through that the way he had.

Bruce glanced at his watch. It had already been three hours since the briefing room. He had no idea how long it might take for Tony to come to. He'd been forced to inject Tony with the serum Stark Industries had developed with General Ross when they'd still been trying to kidnap him.

He'd made several modifications to it since Tony had procured him the samples, changing the properties into something less volatile and toxic. The dose administered was tailored to meet his own genetic characteristics. Administering it had been pure instinct, in reaction to the disturbing similarities to Bruce's own transformations. He had no idea how Tony would react.

Tony lay motionless on the gurney, covered by a hospital gown. His clothing had been shredded by the creature, and what was left had been cut off in surgery. His wrists, ankles, chest, hips and head were restrained by leather straps. The sight made Bruce sick - he'd been in that position too many times. But he had no idea what Tony would do when he finally opened his eyes, and had requested a private room and zero contact unless he called for help.

The others, after Bruce had described what had happened to Tony before he'd sedated him, had stared at him with wide-eyed disbelief. Bruce could hardly believe it himself. His own transformations were so commonplace that the idea of someone else suffering in the same way was like bad science fiction. At the rate things were progressing it was more like a bad horror novel.

He reached out and laced his fingers with Tony's. They were dry, rough and calloused from his work. He gave them a gentle squeeze. His heart ached. It was bad enough being a monster himself. Seeing it happen to his friend was even worse.

He dozed a bit in the hard chair. The arc reactor in Tony's chest filled the room with a blue glow, like a nightlight. It was soft and comforting.

He didn't know how long he slept for, or if he even slept at all. A slight pressure on his fingertips made him open his eyes and look up at Tony's face.

His skin was smooth, relatively unmarred. Bruises which should have been vivid and bright against his skin had turned a dull green and were fading fast. There were thin, slightly puckered pink lines where his skin had been flayed from his face. Similar scars criss-crossed the rest of his body, and even these were fading. Soon they would be thin white lines, and then smooth, clear flesh. All of his fractures, the internal bleeding, his ruptured organs, even his goddamn _spine_ had healed. Bruce had never seen anything to rival it.

"Tony?" he said, afraid to raise his voice.

His fingers tightened again. Bruce licked his lips, standing up. He leaned over him, wanted to reach out and stroke his face, but he was afraid to do anything which might make the other man uncomfortable.

A faint crease formed between Tony's eyebrows, and his lips parted as he breathed a little deeper. In a slow, almost unconscious movement Tony's tongue ran over his lip as the frown deepened. He breathed in again, harder, before his eyes started to twitch.

"Bruce?" the word was whispered, soft. It sent a tremble of anxiety through him.

"I'm here," he said, unable to manage more than a murmur.

"What happened to me?" Tony's eyes opened and Bruce felt a surge of relief to see that they were his normal warm, intelligent brown. "I feel like I've been thrown into a wall. And I know what that feels like." He tried to sit up, but a bolt of panic shot across his features. His arms and legs twisted as he pulled against the restraints. "What the hell is going on here?"

"Tony, take a deep breath and try to calm down. No one's trying to hurt you."

"Calm _down?"_ He strained again, jerking his arms up fast enough that the entire bed frame quivered.

"Tony, please, _trust me."_

Tony stopped, breath hissing through his teeth, as he looked up at Bruce. His eyes had changed. Quicksilver was seeping into his iris's like a silver mist.

Bruce took a deep breath, not knowing where to begin.

"I'll give you the quick rundown. You were attacked by what Thor calls an _ulfhedinn._ I pulled it off of you. Rather, the Hulk did and he... killed it." Bruce had seen pieces of what had been left over after the Hulk had lost it. It wasn't pretty. "When we got you back here you woke up in surgery. Your body..." how could he describe the utter ruin of what Tony had been, flayed apart, crushed and bruised? He should never have survived the initial encounter, let alone making it back to the helicarrier. "You were in rough shape. But when you gained consciousness you started to heal."

"I think I remember that," he muttered, frowning. "Everything's fuzzy..."

"That's probably the sedatives I had to give you."

"What do you mean I started to heal?"

"Your spine had been crushed, your bones pulverized. They started to... knit themselves back together. You were healing at an alarming rate. After I administered lorazepam you started to panic despite the medication and you began to... change."

"Change?" Tony's voice was flat, confused. The silver had trickled away from his eyes.

"Your muscles, your eyes... and you started to make these sounds..." Bruce rubbed his eyes, remembering the nurses screaming and running from the room as Tony's body began to contort, his limbs changing, muscles popping, his eyes beginning to glow. Worst of all were the animalistic snarls and shrieks. "I had to dose you with the sedative I use to stop my transformations into the hulk."

Tony took a deep, hard breath. "Alright, get these off of me," he said, pulling at the restraints. _"Now."_

Bruce complied, undoing the straps. The second Tony's hands were free he started to undo the one on his head while Bruce undid his feet. Mindless of the injuries he'd sustained, Tony swung up into a sitting position without even a wince. He ripped out the leads and the IV, tossing them aside.

"I want to know what's happening to me." Tony's eyes had a silver sheen when he looked up again. "Give me the data, not the story."

Bruce nodded. "According to Jarvis, something about the creature - I don't know if it was the scratch, or the bite, but I'm inclined to think the latter - has infected you. The creature itself is similar to me. Its blood contains low levels of gamma radiation and something else, like a virus. It isn't killing you, but it is changing you. From what I can tell it's like a nanobot, and is injecting pieces of itself into every cell. They also accelerate healing by nearly six thousand percent. Some of the delay may have been because of the gamma radiation resistance your arc reactor gives you, or because of the sedatives, but the infection has already spread through most of your body."

Tony's voice was nonchalant, but his hand started to shake. "So does this mean I turn into a big green rage monster?"

"More like a hairy rage monster."

"Like a werewolf, then."

Bruce couldn't find any words that fit the situation. He doubted they made an 'I'm Sorry You're a Monster Now' Hallmark card. He'd never had anyone to help him, to explain what was going on to his body, what to expect.

"Yes," he whispered. "Like a werewolf."

He wasn't sure what to expect out of Tony, what kind of reaction he might have to the idea. Would it be a scientific wonder for him, would he face it like a true scientist, detached and calm? Would he think it was amazing, cool even? After all, he had always expressed clear admiration for the Other Guy, but would he take it so well when it was him? He didn't know.

What he didn't expect was for Tony's face, always so steadfast and strong, to crumple. A choked sob came from his throat as his hands covered his face, twisting over the latticework of fading scars, curling into his hair.

"Tony," he whispered, and pulled the man forward, off of the gurney and into his body. The engineer didn't resist. "I'm so sorry I didn't get there sooner, I'm so sorry I couldn't have saved you from this." He didn't say it would be okay, because he knew from experience it only would get worse as the realization that at any moment he could lose himself to what was lurking under his skin sank into him. He could only offer him help, a firm shoulder. He stroked his head, trying to ignore the pain the hopeless cries caused him. "I will try to find a cure. I will do everything I can to try and fix this."

Bruce didn't know how long it took for the sobs to subside as he held his friend, stroking his hair and making soothing sounds while he rode out each new wave of grief and tears, each wordless moan. Eventually the anguish was replaced by a dull, detached attitude that didn't suit Stark all. Without acknowledging the fact his eyes were red and sore and Bruce's shirt was wet with his tears, Tony had turned himself out of Bruce's arms and asked to be alone in a subdued tone that was nothing like his friend's usual boisterous attitude. Not wanting to intrude Bruce had complied, leaving him a small amount of the special sedative.

The second the med bay door shut and locked behind him he felt weak and helpless. He covered his face, leaning against the glass. He doubted Tony saw. Before Bruce had left he'd already hooked Jarvis up to the medical computer and was becoming absorbed in analyzing every bit of data available. Bruce couldn't get the image of Tony's face crumpling in despair out of his mind. He bit back a sob, knowing it wouldn't do to lose it in public. He just didn't know where to go, what the next step was.

There was a soft sound, someone cleared their throat. He looked up, imagining what he must look like, to find the rest of the team standing there. Rogers was in his BDU's, Barton and Romanoff in uniform, and Thor in his usual regalia.

"He wants to be alone," he said, hating the tremor in his voice. _I do too, for that matter._

Steve's voice was soft and gentle. "We know. We thought you might like to come with us."

"Why?" he wondered if they were under orders to detain him, and if Fury would be that stupid to try something like that to him now.

"We thought you might like to talk to Director Fury," said Barton, stepping forward, holding out his hand. Bruce had never really spoken to Barton. He'd always assumed that Clint didn't like him, not because he feared him, but because of the Hulk trying to kill Romanoff, so he'd always just avoided the man. His grey eyes were compassionate, full of sympathy. Bruce let himself be hauled up off the floor. "We've got a message to pass on."

`~+0+~`

Agent Hill stood next to Fury, reading off the latest reports from the crater. He wasn't paying much attention to her. He was more focused on what could be happening to one of his team, and what the council would have to say to him when he contacted them for his mission report. He looked at the control room without really seeing it. The displays were bright with continual readouts, and the clouds beyond the high windows were pristine white against the bright blue sky. He wasn't overly sure where they were, just that they were flying somewhere above Colorado. It was now 0900 hours, the end of a long, hard night.

Most of the time he hated Stark. He wished he could take the suit and give it to an Agent worthy of it, just so he wouldn't have to listen to his damn smart mouth and put up with his fucking scheming. But Tony Stark was an invaluable asset. Fury couldn't deny that most of the technology they used had come from his R&D department, had provided excellent intel during crisis situations, and had nearly sacrificed himself for millions. He might never be a good soldier, but Tony Stark was a good man if a fucking pain in his ass. He was at a loss for what to do, and wished Coulson was there. He'd always been better at dealing with him than Nick ever was.

"Agent Carter has managed to smooth out relations with Department H and Alpha Flight specifically," reported Agent Hill. "They're furious that they weren't included in the initial incursion, and demand we yield any technological advances we gain from the crater."

"Is Dr. Hudson out of his fucking mind?" he snapped. "He knows that SHIELD has an agreement with Department H about any Asgard weaponry or information."

"Shall I alert Agent Carter to have a meeting with Dr. Hudson arranged?"

"Do that."

"The last item is that your evening meeting with the council has been moved forward to 1400 hours. They want a status update before they have to go to a jurisdictional battle with the Canadian government."

Fury swore under his breath, nodding.

"Think you can pencil us in as well, Director?" Romanoff's voice cut across him.

He turned to see the Avengers sans Stark standing in the doorway. The group was assembled around Dr. Banner, who was looking dangerous despite the heavy shadows under his eyes. He could almost see the Hulk lurking within. Barton was to his immediate left and Romanoff to the right. Their expressions held none of their usual deference, and were as cold and detached as the rest of the group around them.

"Can I help you?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"Just passing on a friendly message," said Barton.

Fury marveled again at how well the six of them had formed such a cohesive, functioning group despite all of their differences and defects. Even Romanoff and Barton, who had been cut off from human interaction, living only to serve their (current) country. Despite the possibility of insubordination from his two top spies, he felt a swelling of pride which he didn't let show on his face. They were a force to be reckoned with.

"And that would be?"

Banner cleared his throat, straightening out of his usual unassuming hunch. "Just letting you know that if you, or anyone else, get's the wise idea that Tony ought to be under a scalpel and microscope, that you're going to have some extremely angry people on your hands."

"We didn't allow it when your 'council' suggested Dr. Banner be kept here under constant surveillance, and we hope you appreciate we won't stand for it concerning Stark," said Rogers.

Fury glanced at Thor, wondering if he had anything to add. The god merely lifted Mjolnir and rested it against his shoulder, smiling at him. Nick got the message.

"I just want you to know that when I report to the council what's going on, I have, and have had since the incident, every intention of informing them that Tony Stark will not be taken for any kind of laboratory testing or research."

Bruce smiled, exposing his teeth, his eyes glinting green in the white light pouring in from the clouds outside. There was no warmth in the gesture, but there was a dark promise. "Just so we're clear. I'd hate to break any of your toys."

"Duly noted, Dr. Banner. Don't worry. I'm in full support of the Avengers Initiative, and have no intentions to sell Tony out to anyone."

"Good," he replied.

Barton turned. "We'll be watching."

Fury watched his handpicked team disappear out the door. He let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding and wondered how much of his 'emergency whiskey' remained in the bottom drawer of his desk.

"What are you going to tell the council?" asked Agent Hill, standing at ease next to him. He didn't have to look at her to know she agreed with the rest of the team.

"I'll inform them that if they don't want a serious situation on their hands, they'll leave the managing of my team to me," he replied lightly. "Also, see to it that Barton and Romanoff get a pay raise. It's about damn time they felt like a part of anything."


	4. Chapter 4

Tony paced the hospital room wondering when someone was going to bring him clothes. The tiny med bay room was making him stir crazy. If it wasn't for the backless hospital gown he'd have run for the hills long ago, apparent danger and risk of his newfound condition be damned.

The entire situation was surreal. He'd gone over the data three times, even did a few extra scans on his blood to make sure there was no error. If his and Bruce's math was right (and of course it was), the mutation had now spread throughout every cell in his body. He was also infected by a very unhealthy dose of gamma radiation, which was either there to keep the little nano-pricks alive, or was a by-product of them. He still needed to get to the lab to figure that out. All he'd been able to tell was that the radiation wasn't causing his cells to deteriorate - the contaminant had taken care of that. That was nice, considering radiation sickness wasn't high on his list of ways to die.

He glanced at himself in the mirror, flinching just like every other time. Thin white lines criss-crossed over his face, parting his goatee, adding a dipping curve to his upper and lower lip. Another just missed his eye. Even with this glance he could see that they were less pronounced, still healing...

He didn't have any video feed about the supposed 'almost transformation' which Bruce had told him about so as far as he was concerned regarding _that_ , Tony was a river in Egypt. The memories of the attack and surgery were safely locked away in his mind somewhere, nothing more than inconvenient shadows that hinted at pain and terror wrapped in a fuzzy blanket of painkillers and sedatives.

His eyes slid down towards what Bruce had left him. A small glass auto-injector sat on the bedside table. The vial was filled with a deep purple liquid. It was the sedative which the two of them had modified from General Ross's original design. Bruce had told him to just yank the cap off and medicate if he felt the change begin, but Tony had no memory of what that might feel like.

 _Clothes,_ he reminded himself, resuming his pacing. He was about to use the tablet to call Bruce when there was a knock at the door.

Sighing in relief, and rather hoping Bruce had stopped by with a sandwich as well as something to cover his ass, he opened the door to find Legolas holding an armful of clothing. _Well, that's new._

"Um..." said Tony, trying to make sense of why Barton was standing there staring at him with clothes. And why it wasn't Bruce. And why there wasn't a slice of bread in sight.

"Bruce thought you might need something to wear, so I offered to bring it down." There was question A. "He'll be here in a minute." There was question B, with reservations.

Legolas walked in the room without answering C, which had become a rather pressing issue in the last hour, but Tony decided that two psychic answers out of three was pretty good odds. Barton tossed the clothing on the bed. Tony didn't fail to notice his bow was coiled on his hip or that he was wearing his arrows. Even for one of the deadly assassins this was odd.

"Here to prevent me from killing the innocent masses?" The idea sent a bolt of burning, sour anger through his stomach and he had to bite his lip and concentrate to prevent his hands from shaking. That was way out.

"No. Here to prevent the not-so-innocent masses from knocking you out and dissecting you."

 _And yet another field ball,_ thought Tony, blinking hard, like maybe if he did it enough times the strange man in leather in front of him might go poof and something more sensible would take his place. "No offense," he began, edging over to the bed, keeping his bare back to the wall to prove he had a little modesty, "but... why do you care? I mean, we aren't exactly buddies."

Barton shrugged, going to stand by the door. "We're part of a team, Stark. Nat and I might not be the most sociable people around, but after everything that's happened since the Avengers first assembled, how can you think it's strange for someone to want to have your back?"

Tony had no answer. Perhaps he'd just assumed that the scary ninja woman and deadly Robin Hood were more of Fury's people than the other four, and didn't make much of an attempt to bridge the gap. Hell, other than Bruce he'd made no attempt to bridge any gap with any of them, especially Rogers. He pulled on a pair of jeans, deciding not to answer the question. He posed a different one. "If I'm contagious to soft squishy humans, why isn't the resident demi-god looking after me?"

"Thor returned to Asgard to learn more about what attacked you, but he said he wouldn't stay there long. And Rogers figured he'd probably just piss you off."

Tony snorted. That wasn't far off base.

Barton glanced back just as Tony tossed the gown away and picked up a plain black t-shirt from the pile. "Hungry?"

Tony's stomach snarled at the suggestion. _"YES."_

"Dr. Banner went to get you a tray from the cafeteria. He figured it would be good for you if you didn't have to eat around a lot of gaping eyes and bad questions."

As if on cue Bruce walked in, balancing a tray and looking more tired than Tony had ever seen the man. It looked like one good breeze would knock him over. He had also changed his shirt, Tony noticed with a pang of mortification. He hadn't lost it like that in a long time and was a little embarrassed by it all.

"Hello, Tony," said Bruce, but Tony didn't reply. Trivialities like greetings were forgotten when the tray was set down next to the bed. He heard the physicist chuckling as Tony started to edge towards it. "Go ahead. Bon appetite."

He needed no second prompting as he darted past Bruce, homing in on his prey. He pulled the lid off of the tray and inhaled. Military commissary food had never smelled so fucking good. A part of him was a little disappointed with the lack of rare, bloody steak, but the hamburger and mound of fries helped quash that. And oh, maybe this wasn't some gourmet burger that would send food critics into beefy-heaven, but he didn't care.

He didn't notice Bruce was watching him with a half fascinated, half disgusted expression until he'd finished the burger and started wolfing down his fries.

"What?" he asked with his mouth full.

"Did you taste it?" he asked, looking away.

"Yes. Might need another though, to be sure of the flavour. Gotta love slightly scorched Argentinean cows. We really need to get some better cooks here. Do you think Fury would pitch some SHIELD budget towards hiring five star chefs, or would I have to be the financial backer there?" He took a swig of warming coke to wash everything down.

"I'd back you financially to teach you some table manners."

"I was savaged by a wolf creature and turned into a mutant. I think I'm allowed to snarf down one meal."

He eyed the juices left behind, wishing Bruce had been thoughtful enough to bring another one. Or two. Or a steak. Man he wanted a steak. With a shrug he pulled the piece of apple pie forward and began to eat it instead. "So, what have you been doing while I was hanging out in here?"

Bruce leaned against the bed next to him, swaying a little. "I uploaded the data I had from various experiments I've tried on myself - cures, I mean. I'm running simulations against some blood samples I took from you. Jarvis said he'll be busy with them for awhile. I figured you'd be climbing the walls, so..." he waved his hand.

"Well, thank you for the pie," said Tony, between bites. "And the bodyguard."

Barton chuckled. He was sitting on the counter, leaning back, totally relaxed.

Bruce shrugged, pulling off his glasses and rubbing at his eyes. "No problem."

Tony finished off his meal with belch, shoving the tray away. "Nice one," laughed Barton. Tony made a mock bow, ignoring Bruce's nauseated look.

"So... what now?" he asked, still staring at the empty plate. He didn't know how it was possible he was still starving but he figured he'd let his brain catch up with his stomach. When Bruce didn't reply he glanced over. Banner was staring glassy-eyed at the floor. He opened his mouth to ask if he was alright just as the physicist's eyes closed and he started to topple off of the bed. Tony caught his arm just before he fell and Bruce jerked awake with a startled gasp.

"Bruce, when was the last time you slept? And I mean _slept_ slept, not a nap." He was surprised by the sudden well of concern for him. He was always looking out for Bruce but the need to keep him well was like a buzzing through his entire body.

"Umm," Bruce swayed, blinking dazedly at him. "Well, about thirty hours ago, I'd guess."

Tony sighed. "Get to bed."

"Tony, you need me on this. I'm kind of an expert on these kinds of transformations."

"Won't be much good if my expert falls over, beans himself on the counter, and hulks out on us. Go to bed, Bruce. I'll be a good little boy and avoid pain and annoyance for the next eight hours or so. Relax. I'll just work on something else until you get back."

Bruce looked like he wanted to argue but his face disappeared in a jaw cracking yawn. "Alright, maybe you're right. Be careful. Don't forget about that sedative."

Tony nodded, shoving the auto-injector in his pocket.

Bruce left, swaying like a zombie as he made his way towards the housing block. Tony was surprised by a brush of anxiety from seeing him leave, but chalked it up to stress. Tony wasn't a mother hen. Not his style.

"So?" Barton asked, still perched by the door.

Tony shrugged, looking around. The helicarrier wasn't exactly the coolest spot to be trapped in. If they were in the Avengers Tower he and Clint could go watch a movie, or even play some basketball, or he could work on his suit...

Well, that left only one place to play.

"Lab?"

It was Barton's turn to shrug. From their brief interactions at the Tower Tony knew his skills were no less when wielding a nerf or paintball gun, he spent an inordinate amount of time in the rafters and reinforced air ducts, and enjoyed unusual movies like _Brazil_ and _Attack of the Killer Tomatoes._ He'd had yet to see him in the lab (not counting when he stood on the rafters and shot nerf darts and arrows at Bruce and Tony for three hours while they created sparkly fireworks to knock him down) doing anything remotely science-y.

"Maybe I'll make you a new arrowhead. Got any that release poison gas?"

"No," said Clint, perking up. Tony knew he should be more worried about a man that excited to have a new toy of death, but in the spirit of killing aliens Tony decided to be a bit more amiable.

They walked to the lab together discussing new arrowhead ideas. Legolas was even more excited when Tony suggested creating an arrowhead that released an acid splash. If it hadn't been so creepy it might have been endearing. Occasionally an agent would pass, look alarmed, then duck their head and keep going. _My reputation precedes me,_ thought Tony drily. What he didn't expect was to pass one of the medics and have her trip up in her hurry to get the hell out of his way. The wide-eyed look of terror she gave him didn't help the paranoid feeling that his story had already gotten out all over the helicarrier.

The lab was located a few levels below the bridge overlooking the main hanger through thick plate glass. Below was a network of service tunnels which led towards the storage wings and the docking bay. Tony breathed deep the sterile scent of the lab. It was his and Banner's favourite place to play on the carrier, full of touch screen computers and holoprojectors that were enough to make any scientist cream their jeans, along with a wide array of useful chemicals, spectrometers, high powered lasers, and all the useful little tools that went with them. _No particle accelerator,_ he thought with just a touch of smugness as he slipped into his favourite chair and logged into the mainframe. _My lab is still the best._

The two of them put their heads together, drawing up schematics for the new prototypes. The process took a few hours. Tony was surprised to find he liked Barton more than he thought - there really was something to teamwork. Barton was invaluable too, teaching him about the balance of his arrows, the best shapes for the head. Tony had never worked with arrows before - they always seemed so archaic next to his repulsor blasters - but the work was interesting and stimulating.

He took apart several of the arrowheads. He didn't have exactly the right equipment to make a fully-functioning weapon, but with a little tweaking he could make a prototype after breaking down some of the others for parts. Clint helped, although he was clearly ill at ease with the sacrifice of some of his hardware.

"Alright, now one of the electric ones," he said, working away with the delicate screwdriver at a small cylinder he'd decided to use for one of the chemicals he'd need for creating the corrosive splash.

Clint unclipped it, passing it over. "What do you need it for?"

"Science," said Tony with a roll of his eyes as he changed the bit on his screwdriver for something smaller. "I need it for the electrodes."

"Careful," said Barton, watching him as he began to undo the screws. "Those capacitors can hold up to five thousand volts."

"I'm an _engineer,"_ said Tony, easing the casing open. "I'm also a genius, not a temp in the civil engineering office. I'm not so stupid that I'm going to poke the capacitor and electrocute myself."

He prised apart the casing and started to take it apart. Careful not to tap the capacitor he removed what he needed and put the dangerous parts aside and set to work reassembling the mess before him. When he was done forming the quick release - which let go with a good clack when he tapped the bit against the metal desk top - he set about collecting the chemicals he needed to make something nice and corrosive. Clint watched him with a wary eye as gathered the materials and beakers and he ignored him. It was fine and dandy telling him about bow-crafting but this was Tony's realm. Granted he wasn't as good at it as Bruce, but...

"What are they?" asked Clint, eyeing one that was vaguely green.

"Would you even begin to understand if I actually named them?"

"No."

"So don't trouble your little hawk brain. It's just something I'm concocting that _should_ work at dissolving alloys similar to the armour the Chitauri were wearing."

"Man, I do _not_ get why Bruce likes you so much," said Clint, (Tony, if ever asked, would vehemently deny the deep burst of pleasure the idea brought him), "you can be an asshole when you want to be."

"It's my prerogative. Everyone's got their character type, Team Asshole is mine."

This lead to an interesting discussion about everyone else's types (Tony insisted on calling Rogers the Team Boy Wonder, Clint countered with Team Do-Gooder, and the jury was hopelessly deadlocked on a compromise) while he pulled on a pair of gloves and set to work.

"Alright, this is volatile stuff, so maybe stand back," said Tony as he siphoned a clear substance out of one of the beakers with his pipet.

Clint looked like he wanted to say something. His face read _this is a bad idea,_ but Clint was a known perpetrator of Bad Ideas at the tower, so he said nothing and just backed up a few paces.

At first Tony was ready to call it a success as he transferred the chemical into the waiting beaker. There wasn't any smoke or obvious reaction besides a slight bubbling. He smiled, lifting his goggles, as he rechecked his math. "You know, it _should_ have changed colour."

"Did you do it wrong?" There was a definite edge of nervousness to Clint's voice which Tony took immediate offense to. "I mean, it's not going to randomly explode, is it?"

Tony picked up what he had dubbed the 'Pokinator' (and what Bruce fondly referred to as the 'StarkTech Annoyatron') and waved it at him. "It's perfectly fine. If my math is right, and it always is, then nothing's going to make this explode. I was just wrong about the interaction level changing the colour." He tapped the side of the beaker to prove his point.

There was an amazing amount of noise and light for just a little tap, and it felt like the Hulk had just slapped him in the chest. He hit something back first and heard a crack as pain sliced through the back of his head.

He hit the ground, coughing as he inhaled acrid smoke. Clint was yelling but it was like Tony's ears were stuffed full of cotton. His entire body convulsed and he wasn't able to get up or move his arms. Something in his head was screaming, not in words but in feelings, feelings of fear, the need to defend himself against the threat that had hit him, hurt him.

The sprinklers had gone off, spraying the lab with stale water. Somewhere across the lab an alarm had begun to trill, the sound driving through his skull like a dull wedge. Tony opened his eyes and looked at his curled hands. Drops of red mixed with the puddle on the ground in front of him. Stronger feelings, anger at being hurt, swelled up inside of him like a storm and he shuddered as his body started to heat up, getting hotter and hotter as it rolled from his chest to his fingers and toes.

"Fuck, _fuck,"_ he swore, his entire body felt like it was vibrating (or was it the world around him that was shaking?) and he gripped his head to make it hold still. He yelled at Clint to find out if he was okay but the sound came out wrong, like there was a tortured animal in the lab. He sucked in a hard breath, terror crashing through him like a tidal wave forcing all of his other thoughts away. His joints were popping and snapping, his muscles too big for his skin...

Something touched his shoulder. He flinched, letting out a snarl. Something had gotten the drop on him! He turned, snapping his hand out. It made a startled, strangled noise as he caught it by its neck, grey eyes wide in shock. He roared at it, squeezing hard enough to feel its muscles strain back against his hand, and tossed it away. It barely weighed anything.

There was a crack as it _(Jesus Christ, Stark, that is Barton, Clint Barton, what the fuck are you thinking?)_ smashed through a touch screen, yelling, saying meaningless words. He growled, low and deep, challenging it to get up.

Tony was trying to reassert himself but it was like a nightmare were you watch your body move, screaming instructions at it, but it wouldn't obey. _Tony get a grip, calm down, this isn't you, you're not an animal -_

A scent cut through everything, through the chemical stink, the stench of stagnant water. He breathed deep, tasting it. It was good and bad at the same time, setting his teeth on edge, filling his stomach with anticipation and deep dark need. It was male, laced with fear, tasting of strength and courage. He opened his eyes, looking at the other where it was dragging itself up out of the debris. Its tone was aggressive, its eyes dark. Blood trickled down its chin. It wished to fight.

He dropped to his knees as the last pieces of Tony Stark snapped away and disappeared.

`~+0+~`

There weren't a lot of things in the world that Clint Barton was afraid of, and even less than he'd admit to. One of his teammates screaming _(howling)_ in pain and turning into a horrendous creature was on his list of things he'd freely admit. He'd been in tense situations where one wrong move would kill him, but this was something else entirely.

The second Tony had started playing mad scientist with the chemicals he planned to use to create his new arrowheads he'd gotten his doubts. But after chastising him over nothing about the capacitors he felt like a fool for bringing up the whole "avoiding possibilities of pain" thing again, despite what Bruce had warned him about. Stark was a brilliant engineer and scientist, so telling him off like a child would be an insult.

All of his doubts about the direction their brainstorming had taken were justified when Stark tapped the side of the glass beaker and it had exploded. He had a brief vision of Tony flying backwards into the wall of thick safety glass, his arms spread like he was being crucified, the spider webbed glass behind his head like a halo. Then he was on the ground as well, the air knocked out of him, ears ringing. He started to cough, trying to draw something in but he could only taste the bitterness of the chemicals on his tongue and burning in his eyes. Tears clouded his vision as he blinked. He had to turn as the sprinklers turned on with a spray so he wasn't going to drown.

"S-Stark?" he managed as his chest heaved. "Stark, you alright?"

He opened his eyes, looking around. Small fires were burning, the lab was littered with debris. He lurched to his feet.

Tony was kneeling on the ground, hands over his head. His body was shaking, a strangled sound twisting from his throat, almost like a growl. "Fuck, _fuck,"_ he heard him say like a thin, dragged out whine.

" Tony? Are you..."

Tony didn't reply, at least not with words. Something animalistic, a snarling twisted moan of pain came out of his mouth as he twisted on the ground, dragging his fingers through his hair. His body started to pulse, something was crunching and popping, his clothing was shrinking around his arms and chest.

Oh. OH. _Oh shit!_ He vaulted over the desk and hit the ground next to him. He was afraid to touch him but he was afraid to leave him. There was a snap, like glass breaking, and he could see something dark and wet spreading from Tony's pocket. The auto-injector, and the only thing that might save Tony from what might happen. _SHIT SHIT!_

He reached out and touched his shoulder. Stark jerked, a snarl ripped from his throat. "Tony? It's me, Clint. Can you understand me?"

Clint prided himself on his observational skills. He knew the reaction times of all his teammates. He had to, when it meant the difference between living or dying. Tony's were high, but compared to the rest of the team his were the slowest of them all. He wasn't prepared for the lightning fast snap, his arm blurring with its speed, or his fingers clamping on his throat like a steel vice. It took everything he had to tighten his neck against him and keep a thin, scratching stream of air going to his lungs.

Clint gagged and grasped at his arm, digging his fingers into the tendons on his wrists. The muscles were taught under his skin, fingers rigid and unyielding. Tony had changed - there was nothing remotely resembling him in the lines of his face, his eyes glowing bright and silver in the flashing lights, water pouring down his cheeks. He bared his teeth, which had become long and sharp, glinting with saliva.

_Oh shit oh shit please don't bite me._

Stark roared, inhuman, and he was flying through the air. Something shattered behind his back as he landed, sharp shards dug into his bare shoulders and he rolled over the edge of a desk and hit the floor. There was a bolt of pain as his head dragged over the corner of the desk.

"Tony I'm not an enemy! It's me, Clint! Fuck, _fuck,"_ he lurched to his feet, breath hissing through his teeth. His head throbbed. He probed the wound on his head, his fingers coming back red and slick with blood. "Shit."

He glanced up. Tony was still rigid, staring him down. He'd never seen anything like his eyes, except maybe when the moon was full. Then Tony dropped to his knees, another snarl ripped from his throat, and his body exploded in a surge of dark fur and muscle, sending scraps of cloth flying in every direction. One shaggy arm lifted and slammed against the desk, denting it. A foot, too long and clawed, kicked out, cracking the glass overlooking the hanger.

 _Oh damn._ He glanced at the door on the far wall and back at Tony. His body was still twisting on the ground, jerking with each growl and snap. He took a breath and launched himself over a fallen chair. He had to get the place under lockdown before someone died. Jumping from desk to desk he landed by the door and punched in his skeleton code into the keypad. The second he thumbed the lock-out button metal shutters began to distend over the glass, the door deadlocked behind him with a hard click. He hit the com button.

"All personnel on levels eleven to thirteen will evacuate!" He saw his hand shaking and hated himself for it. "This is Clint Barton, and I repeat all personnel on levels eleven to thirteen will evacuate. We have a Code Green."

He was lying about that. Code Green was in case of an accidental transformation by Dr. Banner, but this was close enough. Someone set off the klaxon horns, which began to wail. He knew the levels would be closing up, dead locking, as emergency personnel got ready. Only Director Fury and Agent Hill would be able to override the command. He was trapped.

He glanced back to see what Tony had become roll to its feet, its shaggy back exposed on the other side of the desk. For the first time in his life Clint wasn't able to move as a furious snarl rolled out through the lab. He willed himself to do anything but just stand there like a gaping idiot as the creature stood higher - impossibly tall. Nine, ten feet, with muscles rippling beneath inky black fur, triple jointed legs ending in heavy paws. One arm pushed down on the desk and the metal groaned under the force, its hand large enough to completely fold around his head.

Clint had seen wolves in the circus. In the sideshow tent they'd had a man, a self-proclaimed werewolf, who was covered in hair and whose nails grew like talons, looking like he'd stepped out of _Wolfman_. He'd never seen anything like what Tony had become, except in a horror film.

It slouched down like a gorilla, its shoulders at Clint's eye level. The wolf's head lifted, lips peeled back over long, sharp teeth. With a roar that shook the walls it lifted the steel desk in its massive arms and threw it at the metal covered glass, sending a cascade of shards along the floor.

If Iron Man couldn't dodge one of those bastards Clint didn't stand a chance. Unless... He glanced up. The roof was high, maybe twenty feet. Beams and pipes ran over the ceiling. There was a thin ladder which rose upwards to a service deck. The beast had to be about six hundred pounds, and didn't look like it would be able to navigate the rungs with its gigantic hands. He reached behind himself, patting at his back for the button that would make his quiver change arrowheads and noticed with a lurch it was missing.

 _Shit._ He'd taken off the quiver so he could take the arrowheads out as Tony needed. _There._ It had been thrown clear of the table in the explosion and was lying on its side, half underneath of a toppled piece of equipment.

He glanced at the beast again and took a step. Something crackled under his heel.

The growling stopped and the creatures ears perked up. He could hear it sniffing the air as it straightened out. A ripple rolled down its flanks as its muscles tightened and it let out a quiet snarl.

_Oh fuck._

The creature turned, its silver eyes met his, and its ears flattened along its skull. The arc reactor shone through the shaggy fur on its chest, pulsing slightly. Clint glanced at the quiver again.

The creature snarled and leapt forward.

Clint rolled. He felt the wind and the vibration as it landed with a heavy thump and a squeal of abused metal. He scrambled up, unclipping one of his favourite toys from his belt, flicking off the pin with his thumb. He threw it behind him without looking, clamping his hands over his ears, unclenching his jaw. A sonic burst slammed into his back and sent him flying, glass from computer screens and windows shattered, spraying him with tiny shards that ground into his arms and face.

He hit the ground hard and skidded across the deck. He glanced back to see the creature howling in pain, slamming its fists against the ground where the grenade had gone. 

Clint jumped up, pushing the computer or whatever the hell it was over, and snatched up the quiver. As he slung it over his shoulder he took the bow from his hip. The limbs sprang apart, the string snapped taut. The grip was comforting, like it was giving him some kind of control over the situation. The wolf was recovering as he pulled an arrow tipped with a plain, steel headed barb from the quiver and took aim. He was wishing for forgiveness as he looked down the sights, saw the point where its collarbone met its thick neck. "I'm sorry, Tony," he said, remembering what Banner had told him about his regenerative capabilities.

It charged forward, he let go of the string, closing his eyes on the scream of pain. The creature stumbled, twisting, one hand reaching up for its shoulder.

Clint didn't wait to see what happened as he ran for the ladder. He needed to get high, then radio backup - Thor, the Big Guy, whomever. He was out of his fucking league here.

He flew up the ladder, slipping on the water slick rungs, his heart pounding as the creature snarled below. He glanced down once, pausing for a second. The creature ripped the arrow from its shoulder sending a jet of crimson over the white deck. It howled in frustration and looked up, bunching its haunches for a leap.

"Shit _shit,"_ he swore, climbing again, pushing himself to go faster, trying not to imagine what would happen if he slipped and fell.

The ladder shook as it landed a few feet below him, metal squealing and protesting as its claws dug into the steel.

"Oh shit ohshitoh _aaaaaargh,"_ he almost let go as its claws raked across the side of his calf, sliding through the Kevlar reinforced pants almost like it wasn't there.

He pulled himself up on the service deck, flicked another button to adjust his quiver, and drew again. The creature was maybe five feet away when he fired again, striking it in its other shoulder. There was a burst of electricity and it jerked, falling from the ladder. It hit the ground with a hard thud as it squealed in pain. Barton hit the ground knee first, gasping as his leg gave out on him.

He looked up to see a camera stationed in the corner. He took a deep breath. "Director Fury, do _not_ send anyone in. He's highly contagious, and fucking determined. Wait for my signal before sending back-up."

He dug in one pocket, pulling out his wireless earpiece, and twisted it onto his ear. "Dr. Bruce Banner," he commanded, and listened to the ring as it dialed him. He'd already drawn another arrow and was pointing it at the creature _(TONY,_ damnit!), his entire body shaking with adrenaline. If he wasn't so scared he'd be berating himself for getting too emotional.

He almost cried in relief as Bruce's tired voice came over the line.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still nothing to add, still re-posting

Bruce was dreaming. Like most of his dreams after transformations they were full flashes, a sensory overload of sounds, scents and colours. At first it was a maelstrom of black and brilliant white light before it morphed into the battle he'd fought while Tony lay bleeding behind him. He was full of power and fury and rage as he tore at the creature, slamming it into granite and pummeling it with his fists as its claws sliced at his green flesh. He wrapped his arms around it, crushing it to his chest, feeling his tendons popping from exertion as he roared. Its bones were breaking like brittle twigs, its body was being squeezed in two, each half swelling out with the pressure.

A flash of lightning revealed the struggling monster in his arms, massive, lupine. An arc reactor pulsed erratically on its chest before it snapped under the stress with a spray of sparks and glass.

He woke up screaming, tearing at sheets which felt like ropes. His heart was thundering against his chest as he took deep gulps of air, willing his erratic heart rate down. It had been a long time since his heart rate had anything to do with his transformations, but it wasn't stopping the angry rumbling in the back of his mind taking notice of his terror.

He twisted his hands in his sweaty hair, blowing out a heavy breath. "Well that was horrible," he said to the darkness. The bare room which had been assigned to him was dark, a dull green night light by the bathroom door added a strange hue to the rest of the room.

He shook his head and spent a few moments listing all of the elements on the periodic table starting with 'p' and their respective symbols and atomic numbers. By the time the exercise was done most of the horror of the dream had faded and he was able to pull the tangled sheets away from him and roll to his feet. Another moment spent listing all elements starting with 'r' and he was able to convince himself to get up and go to the washroom.

His muscles were aching and twitching as he let himself in, ignoring the light switch and leaning against the cold steel counter. Bruce let out a shaky breath, recited a few more elements, now starting with 's', and switched on the tap, listening to the hum as the pump kicked in. He held his hands underneath of the icy jet before splashing it on his face, muttering "strontium, SR, 38," and the water bubbled over his lips. He wiped his face dry with a scratchy cloth. "Sulphur, S, 16. You cool, Banner?"

There was a grumble from within him. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. He could break down every single thing into chemicals and reactions, but in the end the Hulk remained something like magic, and he continued to feel like a schizophrenic, communicating with the by-product of a dangerous chemical reaction that lingered in his mind.

"Not now," he said. There was a ripple of emotion - annoyance, acceptance - from the Other Guy, and the feeling receded until Bruce felt alone inside his own mind. The images of Tony being destroyed in his arms had faded enough that it was like a shadow in another room, something he was aware of and something he could ignore. Good. He could try and sleep again. Maybe this time with help from some melatonin.

 _"I have to reverse the polarity of the neutron flow!_ " said a British voice. Bruce jumped at the sound, which was followed by a technobabble quote from _Star Trek_. It took Bruce a moment to realize it was his phone. Apparently Tony had taken it upon himself to adjust his ring tone. Again. He paused, wondering who the hell it could be. Only the other Avengers and Pepper Potts had his number.

He jogged over and saw the name on the screen. Barton. Shit.

"Hello?" he asked, flipping it on.

 _"Oh Jesus!"_ His reply was rushed out, filled with relief _. "Banner, get down here! He's trying to kill me. I need the other guy, he's too fucking strong!"_

"SLOW DOWN! Did Tony change?"

 _"He blew up the damn lab,"_ his voice tense. Bruce could pick up the snarls coming from Tony, hear Clint's laboured breathing. He ran for the door, bolting into the hallway and causing several people to scatter. He could hear klaxon's going off all through the base and wondered how the hell he'd missed it. _"If you don't get down here soon Fury might send in other people."_

"Not on my watch," said Bruce, already feeling the tremor in his muscles from the Other Guy. "I'm coming. Make sure Fury calls Thor. From the tests I've done on all our blood not even Roger's is immune. Did he bite you?"

 _"No,"_ was the reply, and Bruce sighed in relief. _"But he's cut me open pretty bad. Hurry."_

"Just hold him off. I'll be there soon." Bruce hung up, tossing his phone aside, as his body vibrated with the need to transform. _Just a few minutes, big guy and you can tear shit up,_ he thought, and felt a rumble of approval from within.

`~+0+~`

Clint didn't dare stop shooting because if he did the creature began to climb hand over hand up the wall towards him. The wounds themselves made no difference to it, it would rip each arrow out without a care, so he'd begun to use electrostatic heads. The electric shocks would put the creature down for a few seconds, but it wasn't long enough for Clint to make any kind of escape.

He looked over at the window overlooking the hanger, now closed off with a highly resistant alloy Stark had designed to sort of 'Hulk Proof' the lab. If Banner was coming he'd need room. The supply hanger would be perfect, but he couldn't bust through those walls with the explosives he was packing. That left the maintenance tunnels. He glanced an innocuous panel, knowing that it opened to reveal a ladder descending into the dim passageways beyond.

"Black Widow," he said, and his phone dialed.

 _"Clint!"_ Natasha's voice was full of relief. He felt his heart thump at the sound of her voice.

"Is everyone clear from these levels?"

 _"All personnel evacuated from the laboratories as well as the supply hanger and surrounding areas_ ," she said. Her tone was crisp but he could tell she wanted to know if he was okay. He hoped she didn't know about his leg.

"Perfect. I need an override for the deadlock at the hanger maintenance tunnels. I'm going to lead Stark in there. Banner's going to meet me and subdue him." He fired another shock at Tony, who tried to dodge unsuccessfully. It lodged beneath his ribs and the wolf crashed to the floor. He winced at its furious snarl of pain.

 _"I'll do what I can,"_ she sounded doubtful. _" Fury's ready to send Rogers in there after you."_

"No! Tony's contagious. One bite and we'll have a fucking epidemic on our hands. Let the three of us deal with this."

_"Be careful."_

"Always am."

He flicked a switch, changing arrowheads, and drew. He fired down towards the maintenance door and the barb imbedded itself deep within the steel. A small red light blinked, signalling a countdown. Without hesitating he switched heads again and fired once more. This time a thin steel cable whipped behind it as it embedded into the steel above the panel. He anchored the other end into the wall behind him and unclipped another grenade from his belt.

"Sorry, Tony," he said, and dropped his second sonic bomb to the floor below. To keep his teeth from shattering his teeth he unclenched his jaw, put his hands over his ears, and stepped back to avoid the blast wave. Across the room the explosive arrowhead blew, shrapnel flew through the air. The cable whipped, but held.

He flipped his bow over the cable and, without looking down, jumped into the air. He heard the wolf growl, the grating sound of the steel as it tried to climb. Clint gritted his teeth as the vibration from the cable threatened to pitch him forwards.

Ten feet from the wall he let go and hit the ground, rolling. He glanced back once. The wolf was coming for him. Taking a deep breath Clint slipped into the access port, sliding down the red ladder. Without looking back he ran into the darkness.

`~+0+~`

Bruce skidded to a stop outside of the dry lab on level twelve. The guards at the blockades hadn't stopped him, with good reason. The look of the place had transformed - instead of windows sheets of metal had descended, obscuring whatever was going on from view. Captain America was already there, shield in hand, with Romanoff, Fury and Hill.

"Open it," he said through clenched teeth.

Fury looked wary. "Dr. Banner, we don't know if sending you in will help-"

 _"OPEN IT!"_ he roared, his muscles popping. "I can't hold _him_ off any longer!"

Fury and Hill each stepped up to the command console and began to key in their codes. Bruce felt his frame expanding, clothes pulling tight over his chest as he started to growl. He had to hold on but he was losing the battle by inches.

Romanoff stepped closer. "Barton is trying to lead him to the hanger, Bruce. He needs your help."

Bruce growled louder, slipping away. He nodded at her once. Power was swelling into his muscles as the rage began to cloud his vision, his clothing began to tear.

"Hulk?" she said, and Bruce felt the Other Guy turn his attention towards her for just a moment. "Please, help them _both."_

He snorted, now almost twice his size, stooping to avoid hitting the roof. Hill and Fury stepped back as the codes flashed on the screen and the door opened with a hiss. With a roar that made the ground tremble he ran inside, his frame exploding as he bounded toward the metal wall which separated them from the hanger.

Bruce willingly sank into the darkness, sending a silent plea that the Hulk would spare his friends' lives.

`~+0+~`

Clint Barton was a hunter, and when the chase began he would become a hawk, nothing more than razor sharp instincts, focus, and slashing claws as he singled out his prey and silenced them with an arrow through their eye socket or throat. Fast, unerring kills without mercy, without a chance to recover. He rarely felt powerless, and even rarer still failed to do his job _(his brother, Natasha, the demi-god Loki)._ Now he was running through the shadows, the emergency lights pulsing, throwing shadows over the walls, while something from nightmares followed silent, patient. The hawk was being hunted by the wolf.

 _Only hawks can fly,_ he thought, ducking into a corner. _And I'm caged._

He slipped in something - water, maybe his own blood, he wasn't sure - and fell into a valve station. He leaned against the spindle a moment taking gulping breaths as he ignored the burning pain in his leg.

"Fuck," he swore, slipping into the maze of pipes and valves, hoping his small size would be an advantage. He was fueled by pure adrenaline, trying not to think of how much it would hurt if the creature caught him. Would he just be bitten and left? Or would he be eaten? The thought made bile rise to the back of his throat.

From somewhere above he heard a roar of fury. The Big Guy. He twisted through the pipes listening for any sound that he was being followed. Where the creature had been furious in its onslaught before, now it was waiting.

He froze near a walkway, staring through the darkness. His night vision was good, but he couldn't see anything...

Wait. A flicker of blue in the darkness beyond. Arc reactor blue. He swallowed, wondering if he should notch one of his arrows - he only had a few left - or if he should run for the door. He peeked into the hall. The door was sixty feet away. He could make it. Maybe.

Taking a deep breath he folded his bow. It would only get in the way. The glow of the reactor grew nearer. Palms slick, he clipped the bow to his belt.

He heard a soft growl.

 _Out of time_. Barton leapt up and pounded down the hall, his muscles getting weak, his cuts still bleeding, leaving an easy trail for the predator. There was the sound of heavy paws on the ground but he didn't look back. The door was so close now.

He reached out, slapping the open button, as the sound of scrabbling claws grew even closer, just behind.

He squeezed through the door before it was open all the way, yelling in pain as the creature's claws raked across his shoulder, sending ribbons of blood flying in his wake.

The hanger was wide and dim, despite the light coming in through the bay doors. Shapes of crates and  aircraft loomed in the gloom. The ground vibrated from a sudden impact in front of him and a shadow took up all of his vision.

"OUT WAY LITTLE MAN!" he heard a gravelly voice yell.

He jumped to the side as the Hulk ran forward to meet the wolf, using the last of his reserves of strength. Clint ducked behind some boxes. He watched as the Hulk slammed into the creature, who met the new threat without fear.

"BAD," the creature was hoisted aloft, "DOG!" and was slammed against the ground.

The wolf had its own talents, however, as it jumped and ripped at the Hulk's torso. The Hulk merely swatted it away, keeping it moving. The big guy was bleeding green as its claws dug into his skin, teeth tearing at his arms. Clint couldn't believe that something could hurt the Hulk without him losing it. He'd seen the aftermath of the _ulfhedinn_ after the Hulk had decided to rip it to shreds - the creature didn't pose a threat to the Hulk's pure strength. Yet he was allowing himself to be ripped apart. Clint wondered how much of Bruce was there inside of the Big Guy's mind, directing his actions.

He heard a buzz on his earpiece. "Barton," he said.

" _Thor's coming,"_ said Natasha. _"Are you alright?"_

"The big guy is working him over," he replied. "I'm not doing much."

 _"Then get out of there,"_ she said.

"No. I'm seeing this through. You never know - he might need me." There was a crack of lightning and rumble of thunder. Clint turned to see the sky outside the hanger churning in a sudden storm, felt the helicarrier sway as it compensated. The air pressure increased perceptibly in the hanger. "Then again... he might not."

The Hulk roared. "BAD!"

Clint looked back as the Hulk pinned the creature to the ground. It dug in its claws, biting, its furious snarls echoing around the hanger. He had a vision of a giant green wolf and shuddered.

A bolt of lightning cracked through the air, striking the deck of the hanger. Thor appeared from the burst of plasma and light, swinging Mjolnir aloft. _And here's the cavalry,_ thought Clint. _Go get him._

The Hulk glanced over, snorting in distaste. It was no secret that Thor was the only one on the team he didn't like, perhaps because he made an excellent punching bag. He crouched, still holding one hand over the wolf, and raised a fist against Thor.

"NO HURT TONY!"

If Thor felt any shock at the Hulk's words he didn't show it as he stopped before him and dipping into a slight bow. "I will only stop him so that we may help him," he vowed.

The Hulk squinted at Thor, a contemplating expression that would have Clint running for the hills if it had been directed at him. With a snort and a nod, the Hulk lifted his hand off of the creature's chest. The wolf twisted to its feet and backed up, assessing the new threats with a wary intelligence that made Clint shudder.

"You face me now, _ulfhedinn,_ " said Thor, raising Mjolnir. "I command you, as Thor Odinson."

The creature howled, a hauntingly beautiful sound, rising to its full height. It stared down at Thor, who despite being a mountain of a man, was tiny in comparison. Thor swung Mjolnir once, striking a nearby box with a bolt of lightning. The wolf roared, spraying flecks of spittle, bearing its teeth.

"You do not frighten me," he said. He spun Mjolnir in tight circles, building energy. Clint felt the hair on his arms rise with the static in the room. The wolf returned to its slouch and charged, hackles raised.

They locked in battle, Thor parrying blow for blow. His skin was not marked or bitten, but he winced with each graze of claws and snap of powerful jaws. The wolf never seemed to get tired. The two danced in a blur of fur and armour, a dance of death. Clint felt dizzy as he watched them turning, Thor's crimson cape swirling like a tornado of blood.

There was a snap as the wolf flew back from a well placed hit. It smacked into the wall and hit the ground. Smiling, Thor began to spin Mjolnir as the wolf got to its feet. "You are much stronger than I was warned and a worthy challenge," he said, "but we must have Tony Stark back. I will end this now."

With a yell, Thor released Mjolnir. The hammer cracked through the hanger towards the wolf. It struck the creatures stomach, knocking it down, pinning it to the steel floor. Unable to shift the hammer it screamed, kicking and slashing at the air with its back paws.

Through the fight the Hulk had begun to calm down. Clint saw him now, grunting, as his wounds began to close and his skin transformed from its poison green to something grayish pink, bones shrinking, muscles deflating. The transformation was no less fascinating in reverse, but it seemed more painful as the giant retracted into the smaller man hidden within. Bruce appeared, his familiar shaggy hair and soft physique emerged as he swayed, hugging his shoulders.

Seeing that the threat was eliminated Clint tried to stand and move towards them, to see if he could help, but he felt a rush down his side. He swayed, leaning heavily against the box. His vision was clouding, he felt heavy. From somewhere nearby he heard Natasha scream his name. The last time she'd screamed like that, he'd... He looked down to see that his arms and leg were red and wet with blood, pooling on the ground. "Damn," he muttered, before he fell over.

`~+0+~`

Bruce blinked as the room came back into focus. His legs were shaky like he'd run a marathon, muscles twitching and hot. The second transformation back in twenty-four hours, the second _willing_ transformation. It was safe to say he was exhausted.

He glanced down. The scraps of the sweat pants he'd worn to sleep were pooled around his ankles. Self-conscious of his bare skin he reached down and pulled them up, holding them against his waist. He looked around the hanger, unable to remember how he got there. The giant hole in the metal sheeting leading to the dry lab above was a pretty good indication. He noticed Barton sway before he slid to the ground, and saw Thor standing over the shrieking body of the werewolf. It was even larger than he remembered, a mountain of muscle and fur, nearly as big as the hulk. It strained against Mjolnir but didn't shift the hammer.

He was torn between going to Barton and going to Tony. Clint needed medical attention, but it was _Tony..._

He was saved the mental debate as Romanoff ran into the room followed by two medics. She was screaming Barton's name, her usual detached composure abandoned.

Bruce, swaying with exhaustion, walked over to Tony, awed by the beast of destruction that lurked beneath his skin, marvelling that somewhere inside this senseless creature was a great mind, and a great friend. The creature didn't pay him any attention. It was moving less and less, fatigue finally setting in.

"Will it hurt him, Thor?"

Thor looked at him for the first time. "No. The burden of Mjolnir is of the heart."

Bruce nodded, feeling his eyelids wanting to fall, the desire to sink into the dark for awhile. He fought it as he sat down next to Tony, out of range of his claws. He didn't move or look away, he made himself watch the sickeningly slow transformation back, and wondered if that was what he looked like, pieces shrinking too fast for others, the crunching and snapping of bones, the whimpers of pain.

At some point he was aware that the klaxon's had stopped, and that the medical team had taken Barton away. The hanger was very still. Thor did not move as he watched Tony, either, his face stricken.

"I apologise on behalf of my people for the pain that these creatures have caused you," said Thor. "The onus is upon us. It is unforgivable the way we cast them away."

"Maybe you should tell that to Tony," he muttered, as the transformations ceased, leaving him naked and laying before them, blessedly unconscious. Injuries from the fight were almost completely gone. Puncture wounds from arrows dotted his flesh but had already scabbed over, were turning pink and puffy.  Just beneath the reactor Mjolnir continued to pin him to the deck. Bruce looked away, focusing on his face.

There was a ripping sound. He glanced up to see Thor pulling his red cape from his shoulders. The god covered Tony with his tattered cloak. "I mean it to you as well, Bruce Banner."

"It hasn't hurt me yet," said Bruce as he went to Tony's side. He leaned over him, checking his pulse _,_ which was wiry and fast against his fingertips. He had to fight the urge to stroke his jaw and satisfied himself with threading his fingers with Tony's. His hand was so cold.

"I do not mean physical hurt," said the god as he leaned down, grasping Mjolnir's hilt. Tony didn't even wince as it was lifted from his stomach. "I understand how important he is to you, even if you do not yet see it."

Bruce looked up, startled. He felt a blush creeping up from his chest. "What?"

Thor opened his mouth to continue but Bruce turned to look at Tony as the engineer's fingers flexed, squeezing his hand.

"Tony?" he asked, leaning over him.

"Bruce?"

Bruce couldn't stop the relived grin, feeling anxiety rush out of him. "We've got to stop meeting like this, Tony," he said, squeezing his hand harder.

"Like what?" Tony's eyes opened, their own natural shade. He looked around, taking in every detail of his environment before he surveyed himself, confusion colouring his features. He sat up, staring at his lap, blinking as he looked around the hanger. "What the fuck..." he turned, staring up at the twisted metal of the dividers where the Other Guy had punched through. "Oh my god," he said, all the colour vanishing from his face as his skin took on an ashen pallor.

He looked at Bruce, his eyes darting from the tattered ruins of Bruce's sweats to his face. "Oh my god." He wrenched his hand away, stumbling to his feet, swaying like a wobbly colt as he tried to keep the cape around him. His eyes were darting now, focusing on Thor's scratched and scored armour, on splatters of blood both green and red. "Jesus, is that _blood?_ I - I..." Tony wrung the cloth in his hands, his body shaking.

"Tony," said Bruce, trying to sound soothing as he got to his feet.

"Christ, the lab... I'm such a fucking _idiot,"_ tears were in his eyes now as he gasped. "Clint," he said, straightening as he looked back and forth. "Where is he? Did, did I...? Christ, did I?"

Bruce understood the question. "No," he said, as gently as he could, stepping towards him.

Tony watched, his shoulders shaking, backing away from him on unsteady feet. "No, I... are you sure...? I..."

" He'll be fine," said Bruce. "The creature,"

 _"Fuck that,"_ Tony cut in, his eyes dark, full of anger, "there was no random fucking monster, it was _me."_

Bruce swallowed. Tony hadn't wasted any time in accepting that the wolf was a part of him, but he'd accepted it in all the wrong ways. He'd sort that tangle out later, when the other man had calmed down a little.

"Clint was cut few times, but he was relatively unscathed. A little time in the med-bay and a blood transfusion and he'll be on his feet in no time. Although I think even the friendly wolves from _Twilight_ will shake him up. No horror movies for awhile."

"That's not funny," said Tony. He curled over his body, wrapping his arms around his torso, like the wolf might be held inside of him if he squeezed hard enough. "There's nothing funny about this or anything."

"No, you're right," Bruce's voice was soft, sympathetic. "I'm sorry."

"Fuck," said Tony again, his entire body still shaking. "Fuck. Fuck. _JESUSFUCKINGCHRIST! SHITFUCK! FUCK ME!"_

Bruce flinched as Tony dropped to his knees. The Other Guy was watching, waiting. Bruce wasn't sure if his body could stand another transformation so soon on so little sleep. He walked over, his hands out, wary.He knelt down next to him, near enough to touch, but held back.

Tony looked up, his eyes shining with silver for a moment. "How do you stand this?"

Bruce sighed. "Takes practice."

Tony winced. The engineer sat back on his heels, clutching at the cape, his eyes distant. Bruce shuffled closer and touched his knee. Tony flinched but didn't pull away.

"Gonna be... well, not _okay,_ but..." Bruce felt stupid.

Tony shrugged. He ran a tongue over his teeth and reached up, digging for a moment with his fingernail in an absent minded gesture. _Only Tony would worry about having something stuck in his teeth when he's lying naked amongst the wreckage,_ thought Bruce, smothering a small smile.

Tony pulled his finger out of his mouth. Stuck to his fingernail was a shred of something greyish green. A look of dawning horror crossed Tony's face, and as Bruce realized what it was he was sure his expression mirrored his. It was a piece of the Hulk's skin. _His_ skin.

 _"Fuck,"_ Tony managed before he turned and threw up.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still reposting

Tony was leaning against a crate, curled over as he hugged his knees. He didn't look up or speak, just pressed his forehead against the soft fabric of Thor's cape while he shook, exhaustion set into every muscle and joint. After throwing up and the subsequent dry heaves that followed every time he glanced at Bruce he'd given up on speaking, occasionally turning his head to spit out yellow bile. He had a pretty good idea of how he'd look right now - he'd seen his hung over reflection in the mirror countless times. Petechiae hemorrhaging dotting his nose and cheeks, bloodshot eyes, making him look like a fucking drunk. Which he was, but he didn't feel like mincing details. He turned his head and spat, repressing a full body shudder.

Bruce was sitting nearby looking sympathetic, which was almost as awful as him looking disgusted. He understood, or something. Whatever.

Thor was also close, leaning against a crate. They'd moved far enough away from the remains of Tony's lunch so he didn't have to smell it. _Just taste it,_ he thought, running his tongue over his teeth. He turned and spat again.

 _So maybe I didn't bite Barton. But what about...?_ he looked over at Bruce, frowning, fighting down the urge to throw up again. Bruce appeared fine, no trace of injuries. The other scientist's look turned questioning, but he didn't say anything. Unlike everyone else, Bruce had figured out the one thing it took Pepper ten years to realize - that sometimes it was better to just not fucking speak.

Tony licked his lips, trying to suppress a cough that would turn into a gag because if he had to puke one more time he was sure he'd pass out in it. After a moment he managed to get some sound out but it was hoarse and cracked, every word like a nail along his esophagus. "So, Barton won't be turning wolfy, will he?" Shitty enough he was stuck with it. Worse if Barton was, too.

 _I will never forgive myself,_ he vowed.

"No," said Bruce. "According to the coroner who examined the remains of the _ulf-_ whatever _,_ there's no way to transfer the virus through the claws."

His response was perfect and medical, and left out any indication that the question had to do with Tony's mutation, lycanthropy, whatever.

"So how does it transfer? Just saliva?"

"Blood, too. Probably semen, but obviously I haven't..." Bruce coughed, politely almost. It seemed silly for a man who turned into a giant green hulk and frequently woke up in the streets naked to be squeamish about something like that, but he was Bruce, and was nothing if not extremely modest. It was cute, in a strange endearing sort of way.

Tony didn't bother replying. _So sex is taken from me, too_ , he thought, and sighed. If he was anything like Bruce of course that was the case, and not just because of radiation poisoning coupled with the fucking fact he was contagious as fuck and would turn any one of his partners, just by _kissing_ them, into a relentless, murderous beast. It was the fact he probably couldn't face that much emotion and adrenaline without losing his ass to whatever it was lurking beneath his skin and rip apart whomever he was with.

"So, Prince Charming," said Tony, looking at Thor and feeling nothing behind his words. "What did you find out on your quick visit home?"

At first he didn't think Thor was going to respond, he took so long in replying. Finally he cleared his throat. "I learned very little." _Of course._ "The _Ulfhedinn_ were a very protective tribe, looking out for one another, and did not impart many details of their life to the rest of our people. They were an emotional group who lived for the fight, rowdy, enjoyed challenges and contests of skill and strength, and interacted with each other almost like a pack of dogs."

Tony snorted. _Perfect._ To top it off he'd be an animal in human form, too.

Bruce cleared his throat. "Any weaknesses, or...?"

"Such as this weakness to silver which you mentioned? No, nothing of the sort. They were like our kind, without disease, very strong and hardy."

Tony tried to fight the smile off his face. _Well whoop-de-fucking-doo. Looks like Pepper owes me a twenty - no liver sclerosis for me._

He tuned out the rest of Bruce's questions and Thor's replies (for once he was speaking below ninety decibels, and _wasn't that a fucking wonder?)_ and went back to moping, tucking his forehead between his trembling knees. He still hadn't gotten around to asking them to take him somewhere, mostly because he was sure his legs wouldn't support him for more than a few steps. It was easy to just sit in the quiet hanger with his eyes closed. He couldn't imagine himself away from there, but it was peaceful none the less.

There were the sounds of feet and voices from across the hanger, accompanied by the tell-tale whoosh of the doors. It was probably fucking hazmat team. The Hulk's blood was radioactive, and the only three people who weren't at risk from it were in no condition to aide in the clean-up. The thought made him want to laugh, but he figured any attempt right now would end up in a choking sob.

_I am so fucked up. I am beyond fucked up._

A set of footsteps was grew nearer, louder. He didn't look up, didn't care. He just wanted to die there. He didn't even had the guts to ask the Big Question, ask Bruce what the little creeps in his system were doing to him. Of course maybe it doesn't _bother_ Bruce that he could be turning into a big green fucking wolf instead of a naked green giant, it might even be an improvement in his eyes, but couldn't ask. He felt like a walking disease.

"Barton's going to make a full recovery, he's just fine," said Rogers voice, and for once Tony didn't feel the urge to be nasty to him. He lifted his head to see the Cap standing in uniform, mask off, shield slung over one shoulder. "He's hopped up on painkillers and all stitched up.

"Great," said Tony, but it didn't sound like he meant it. Even to him his voice was flat, uninterested.

"Natasha's with him. She's growling at anyone who comes too close."

Tony imagined it and smiled in spite of himself, albeit weakly. He watched the hazmat team in their yellow suits mopping up blood and felt his stomach roll again. Movement, up high through the brand-new Hulk made window to the lab, caught his eye. He could see Fury and Hill watching.

_How long until I'm supposed to sit through a debriefing and get told that I no longer qualify for the Avengers Initiative? That I'm unstable, dangerous, need a little fucking R &R to get my damn head on straight, control my furry little problem..._

He snorted, humourless.  

"I'm sorry I couldn't help," said the Cap. Tony frowned, burying his face between his knees again, ignoring the conversation. He couldn't tune this one out, though, try as he might. "I should have been here to help out."

"No. We had to minimize contact, Steve," said Bruce. "A genetically enhanced werewolf gives me the creeping horrors."

 _Like a regular one,_ doesn't, _Banner?_ thought Tony with a touch of venom. _Not only am I a werewolf, I'm still the fucking bottom of the barrel, haha, that's hilarious!_

Another more disturbing, but not all surprising revelation followed on the heels of the last thought.

_I'm fucking losing it._

"I want to get out of here," he said. He wasn't sure if he could listen to any more. It was fucking with his self control enough just to sit there and not move, let alone listen to anything about what happened.

"Okay," said Bruce, his voice soft.

He watched Bruce stand, knotting the ratty remains of his sweats around his waist. Bruce was looking at Rogers. "Is the way mostly clear?"

Capsicle nodded. "Pretty much."

Bruce leaned over, holding out his hand. Tony contemplated it for a moment, felt the weakness in his knees. "This is really embarrassing, but..."

"Can't get up?" Bruce asked, his voice gentle, full of understanding.

He nodded, feeling stupid and weak and a whole lot of other things, but he didn't let it show. Bruce smiled, motioning for Rogers to approach. Tony was loath to have Cap touch him, especially now, but didn't say anything as Bruce and Rogers both leaned down, putting their arms underneath of his as they stood. Tony's legs shook but supported him, sort of. Everything ached but he didn't want to be a bitch, not in front of _Steve-fucking-Rogers,_ anyway. He hated submitting, the idea that he needed his help made him angry, he wanted to shove Steve down and make him show his stomach, show him his _place._

Tony shuddered. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

They made it most of the way across the hanger before his knees buckled and he stumbled. Bruce's hand was steady on his chest, warm and dry. He glanced at him, met his eyes, and felt something _(pack, family, friend,_ something he didn't know or understand, and wasn't sure it was really coming from him, but didn't think it mattered. It was shouting _MINE_ ).

"We're losing you, aren't we?" asked Bruce, and for a moment Tony thought it was because he'd seen the rising instincts inside of him, acknowledged that Tony wasn't even human when he was like this, and god damn did it hurt, did it show that much on his face? But it was vanquished it when he felt his eyelids flutter shut and he understood. _I don't want to sleep. I feel like all I've done is sleep._

"It's fine, no one minds," he heard Bruce say, and wondered if he was broadcasting his thoughts out loud. Bruce's body was warm, fuzzy, soft, his hands gentle. "Just sleep," he heard Bruce whisper against his hair, and Tony, for once, listened without argument and let himself go.

`~+0+~`

Bruce let Tony be scooped up in Steve's arms. He knew Tony would be throwing a shit fit if he had any idea he was getting carried bridal style _anywhere_ by the Captain, but he didn't stop him. It was that or Thor, so why put up any kind of fuss? Tony was out again, hopefully for a long time. Tony was in a bad place, he needed time to rest his mind.

"Where should we take him?" asked Steve.

"My room," said Bruce. "He should be away from people when he wakes up again."

The three of them set off past the hazmat team, who was scanning the floor where they'd bleached the remains of the blood. The Geiger counter clicked away. He'd always thought the sound ominous, doubly so now.

"I shall ensure the way is free of others," said Thor, striding away.

The walk was short, mostly because everyone disappeared the second Thor showed up, scowling and brandishing Mjolnir. He had a look on that would send even the bravest men running for the hills.

Bruce glanced up once at the ruins of the lab. He noticed Fury and Hill in earnest conversation. The SHIELD agents turned to look at the three of them and he felt a prickle of unease crawl up his spine as they stepped out of the hanger. How was the attack going to change their outlook? Would they even give a damn about their warnings when it had come close, too close, to losing one of their Avengers?

Bruce looked away, feeling his jaw tighten. He wondered how he might be able to smuggle Tony away before they tried to take him, if it would come to it. He looked at Tony's limp body in the Captain's arms. _How far would the two of us have to run?_

They paused outside of Bruce's room. The door was still partially ajar, thank-god, because Bruce hadn't been thinking about his swipe card. He pushed it open, stepping back to let Steve through first.

"I shall stand guard out here," said Thor.

Bruce looked over at him, not really sure how he felt about an armed guard. "Thanks," he said.

"No thanks is needed, Brother in Arms. Take your respite. A plan can be drawn up later on."

Bruce ran his hand through his hair. "You sound like you think there's another fight around the corner."

Thor set his jaw. "Verily, I do."

Bruce nodded. One way or another there would probably be a fight. There was always another one. "Yeah, I do too," he said, and walked into his room.

Steve set Tony down on Bruce's bed, tucking the heavy cape around him. The bed was hard and wasn't very large, but it would have to do. Tony muttered something as he was laid out, but it was nonsense, and he stilled again as his head sank into the pillow.

"Stark doesn't like me, and I understand why. He's not his father, no matter how much I might wish he was, and he..." Steve finished awkwardly.

Bruce had suspected most of this but had never said anything. From what he gathered, Howard must have always spoken of how great Steve was. Mix it in with a dose of neglect and low self-esteem and you've got a good recipe for loathing. Of course Tony was threatened by Rogers. No point in saying anything about it. Tony would just have a hissy fit.

"Give it time, I think. He'll come around."

"Try to get some sleep," said Steve as he left. "I think Tony's going to be out for awhile." The door shut behind him with a soft click.

Bruce tossed away the shredded remains of what he'd been wearing when he transformed and saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He glanced up, but it was just his reflection in the small mirror hanging over the metal dresser where he kept his spare clothes. "Damn, Banner," he muttered, fumbling for the drawer handle. He looked like a zombie, lifeless, pale, with heavy bags beneath bloodshot eyes. He felt like he could sleep for days.

Bruce changed into a new pair of sweatpants, getting mad at his clumsy fingers as he tried to tie the drawstring. He wanted to dress Tony but knew it would be something of an exercise in futility, tired as he was. So he shut off the lights and walked to the bed, looking down at him. He was motionless, still wrapped in Thor's cape like some kind of sacrifice laid out on an altar. The arc reactor's light threw shadows over the contours of his body, turning him into something ethereal, lovely. Bruce took comfort in the rise and fall of his chest - without it, he seemed... dead.

There was nowhere else to lay down, and Tony was on top of the blankets. Sighing, and hoping it wouldn't provoke an episode, or an awkward scene, he sat down next to him. His mind was still buzzing too fast so he picked up his tablet from the bedside table and flicked it on. It took a moment to hack into the medical bay records.

He scrolled through the current patients. There were only four, two of whom were injured while abroad on a mission, another in a training mission. _2145-CB_ was listed at the bottom. He drew up the current medical records and scanned through them. Nearly one hundred stitches, an AB- blood transfusion,  minor contusions, sprained right wrist, minor lesions over his arms and face, laceration on his forehead, extensive lacerations on his left shoulder and calf. He drew up a blood sample, pre-transfusion, and had Jarvis remotely examine it.

 _< Sample is free from contaminants,>_ the tablet displayed, along with a healthy looking sample of red blood cells. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was good to see it in data despite being sure about the disease only transferring through fluids.

Curious, he placed his finger on a sampling port. A lancet pricked the pad of his finger. Flinching a little, he sucked on his finger while Jarvis analyzed the sample. A readout of current radiation levels appeared, all of the data familiar and normal.

_< Sample is free from the contaminant. White blood cells show extreme resistance to the virus.>_

He breathed a little sigh of relief. That had been his previous conclusion as well, using a sample of Tony's blood against his own, but again, after the fact, it was good to know all the same. He set Jarvis on running simulations using Tony's blood versus old cure's he'd tried on himself and put the tablet on sleep mode, plunging the room into darkness once more.

He shuffled down the bed, curling up as he watched Tony breathe in the blue haze of the reactor, waiting for his mind to slow down enough for him to shut off.

Was it time to run again? The two of them could disappear into the world while he taught him how  to control it. The thought of being alone with him, living life day to day, caused mixed pleasure and pain. How would Tony feel, needing to run? He imagined his removal from his luxuries, from his lab, from his suit, from Pepper and Rhodey and Happy, living hand to mouth with Bruce. There was no way he could ever be really content, away from all his possessions and his suit... but he knew Tony already was dissatisfied, hide it as he might. Maybe living simply, without all of the glitter and glamour of being a celebrity, would help. At least for a little while.

He remembered his home in Rochinha and saw a vision of the man across from him in his mind, laughing while the two of them cooked breakfast together. Bruce would be trying to teach Tony Portuguese and he could imagine him getting frustrated as they sat together in the window watching the sun rise over the millions of homes and listening to the city come to life around them. They would be sipping coffee made from bottled water and eating some spicy concoction he'd made off of chipped plates. They'd go to work - Bruce would help out at a hospital or clinic, Tony maybe working maintenance or as a mechanic somewhere, and they would come home together through the market. Tony would be complaining about the oppressive heat, his hair wild with humidity, as they made their way through the maze of stone alleys and crowds of people.

And maybe, at night...

His breath hitched as other thoughts crept unbidden into his mind. The scent of the warm tropical night, the humidity draped over them like a blanket as a cool breeze snuck in through an open window. He thought of his little bed, thought of the two of them together, skin on skin, holding on to each other despite the heat, needing the security, needing the feeling of home it brought to be able to cling to someone in the night.

He buried his face in the hard, rough pillow underneath of his head, skin flushing. The things he loved best about fantasies were when you could imagine people in situations they'd never really be in. He closed his eyes, trying to become completely encompassed in the dream, and drifted off somewhere within it.

`~+0+~`

Fury stepped through the ruins of the lab, his thoughts in turmoil. He'd been conflicted with the idea of Dr. Banner coming to the helicarrier, and had had his doubts and worries proven wrong. Somehow the idea of another volatile person on the ship hadn't phased him, he hadn't seen the danger. He remembered the footage from the fateful experiment that changed Banner's life forever, he'd read the reports from Virginia and surrounding states as the doctor had fought for control in the early days. He hadn't thought to compare that same data to Stark.

Sometimes you just got complacent. Of course in his line of work, complacency meant death. He knew that.

He nudged some debris aside with his foot, sighing. The group had left a while ago, each of them shooting their own mistrustful looks up at them. The last had been from Dr. Banner shortly after Stark had passed out. Even from the distance he'd felt the accusation for something he hadn't even done yet in the glare.

Yet. _Fuck._ He wasn't the kind of man prone to nervous twitches. He was always calm and collected, and always had an answer.

Or at least, almost always.

 _Damnit, Coulson,_ he thought. _I need you._

But the man was out of reach and couldn't help him now.

There was a crunch of boots behind him. Nick didn't turn to look. He knew there were no clean-up crews scheduled for this area yet so there would be only one person approaching him now.

"Yes, Agent Hill?"

"The clean-up crew has been designated, and Agent Sitwell has volunteered to do the damage assessment."

"Have you sent a message along to the World Security Council?"

"Yes sir."

"And?"

"Nothing yet, sir."

He nodded. "I don't know if that's good or not," he said as he turned to look at her. She stood at attention next to the shattered remains of a computer station. "Here's hoping things aren't about to get damn ugly."

`~+0+~`

"...must be detained and studied. It could be part of the key you've been searching to find. You have your orders."

"Of course. I'll have a team dispatched immediately, Councilman."

"See it to it. And also, if you could find a way to prevent unnecessary damages to the helicarrier? We want a minimum of casualties."

"Understood."

The group of screens winked out, leaving the office black. He turned to look at the woman waiting by the door at attention, his right hand. "You heard them. Get ready to move out."

"Yes sir!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Science talk! And I will catch up to what I have on ff.net eventually, I'm just lazy with the reposting...

_He was pinned down, unable to move, and so cold. A weight greater than anything he'd ever known was pressing down on his stomach, he felt like it would just dig through him, sever his spine in its eagerness to find the floor beneath him. He looked wildly at everyone standing about him, tall, masked with shadow as bolts of blue static seemed to crackle around him, over him, through him, razing his body with pain. He begged them to take the weight away and let him go but it persisted, and they only stared down at him, waiting for something, waiting for the weight to do its deadly job and split him in two. One of the shapes, massive, with a primal scent like rage and strength wrapped around something that should be small, stepped forward. With each step it shrank until it was at his side bringing with it a wash of warmth and he closed his eyes, the figures turned to darkness, and he felt like he was floating... alone, but not... someone held his hand._

He flexed his fingers but nothing was there. He felt warm, though, when everything was so cold in his dreams. It seemed to surround him, to sink deep inside of him. It was comforting.

His eyes opened to darkness, illuminated by faint blue. An unfamiliar ceiling was above him. Where was he? His memories were foggy, elusive like his dreams. Every time he tried to remember what he'd last done it seemed to slip away from him. Hospital room, or...? The plane, maybe? He wasn't sure of anything, other than a mild headache and a dull throbbing pain in his muscles, like he'd drank a 26 of tequila and gotten a shit kicking. He smacked his lips. That _definitely_ tasted like he'd gone on a bender. He rubbed his eyes, feeling like he'd been asleep for a long time. His limbs were heavy, clumsy, and didn't want to work. Damn he wanted a cup of coffee. And a sandwich.

"Jarvis?" he asked, his voice gravelly with disuse, and got no response. He licked his parched lips and tried to sit up but his legs were tangled in the sheets.

He reached out and pulled at them, freeing his legs. The fabric was soft and heavy and unfamiliar. He pulled it up higher over his stomach to look at it. Maybe red, covered with tatters and small dark flecks. In fact, it almost looked like Thor's cape.

A flash rippled through his mind, a memory over loaded with sights and sounds and smells, ringing in his mind like someone had just smashed a gong next to his ear. Thor was yelling, swinging his hammer at his head. Tony saw his hands _(paws)_ massive, taloned, covered with fur and wet with blood, reach for the demi-god's face. Tony recoiled, hitting the bed as he stared at his hands, now bare and pink. Memories came back, clearer. The hanger, Bruce, getting sick, passing out... He shuddered.

"Tony?" He flinched at the sound of his name, unexpected and close. The voice was sleep muddled, slurred. He could smell someone, too - honey, mixed with something spicy and rich. Something comforting and familiar, even though he couldn't place it. He looked over to see a shape next to him, rolling, rising from sleep.

"Fuck," he swore, leaping out of the bed, tripping over the cape. He hit the ground knees first and winced. This wasn't the first time he'd jumped naked out of bed, unaware he'd had anyone with him at all. Usually it was his bed he was doing the jumping from, but he decided not to mince the details as he scrambled up, knotting the cape around his middle.

"Tony," the sound was more alert, concerned.

"Where am I?" he demanded.

"My room on the helicarrier," he could see Bruce's tired face now through the gloom. "Relax."

"I would if I could," he snapped, his heart still beating hard. His body had gone tense, his senses in overdrive. He wasn't sure how but he could smell _everything,_ hear every breath that Bruce took, the sounds of movement outside in the hall. He realized now the scent he'd caught a moment ago was him.

Bruce didn't reply, just held out his hand. Tony could stay where he was, clutching at the cape around his waist and panicking, or he could go to Bruce and sit with him. Trust him.

Pulse easing down Tony stepped over to the bed, going slow. He ignored the outstretched hand and sat down Indian style, leaning against the wall, which was cool against his back. He held the cape over himself, watching Bruce warily.

"What time is it?"

"No idea. You've been out as long as I have," Bruce leaned back too, rubbing at his eyes. "I feel like I've slept for days, though."

Tony licked his lips as he fingered the red cape draped over his knees. He wasn't sure where to look or what to do. He was feeling different than when he last woke up, like something was changed all the way to his genetic makeup, and it wasn't just about the fact he turned into a snarly canine. He tightened his hand in the cloth, watching the tendons stand out on his arms. Truth be told he felt strong, like he could just pick up the bed and toss it across the room. He resisted the urge to try the experiment. He was comfortable, and Bruce looked comfy too.

"So what happened?" he asked, the words  coming out softer than he intended.

"From what I gathered from Clint you blew up the lab."

"Yeah. I was trying to mix up a cocktail that would eat through alloys similar to the Chitauri armour. I got the mixture wrong and when I gave it a tap the kinetic energy was enough to set off an explosion."

"Tony..."

"Yeah, yeah. Bad idea, I know." He sighed, thudding his head back against the wall as he examined the ceiling. "I don't remember much else. Just snippets. Like badly developed film." He didn't get into the feeling of raw, rage fueled power, the thrill of the chase, the desire to kill. It, _(him, whatever)_ hadn't just lost it to protect itself. It had wanted to _kill._ "What happened after that?"

"Barton locked the area down and evacuated the area. Called a Code Green, actually," Bruce smiled, but there wasn't any humour in it. "He called me and I hauled ass down to the hanger. Thor and the Other Guy subdued you with Mjolnir and, well, you know the rest."

Tony could remember what followed too well, and he really didn't want to think about that scene more than he had to. Just the memory of it was enough to make his empty stomach constrict. "Sorry for passing out like that."

"Transforming is exhausting. After my first few transformations, since they happened in pretty rapid succession, I slept for nearly two days. I started running after that."

"Wish I could've been there to back you up."

Bruce smiled in a crooked sort of way. "I'm just happy I can help you through this, Tony. I'm glad you don't have to go through it alone."

The words reached into Tony's chest and squeezed. He tried not to let everything tip over and crash onto him but he couldn't help the small sob that rose in his throat. He hid his face behind his hands, skin burning with shame. He felt like a hormonal teenager, and that wasn't the way Tony-Fucking-Stark acted. _He_ was strong, _he_ was supposed to be detached and cool and in control, but he felt anything but, like a rocket without fins careening through the air, unable to stop, a risk to everyone around him.

He felt Bruce's arms enfold around him, drawing him against his chest. Tony couldn't stop himself as he choked, and he clutched at him. He could have killed so many people, could have killed Clint, who hadn't looked at him with fear, who had wanted to protect him. Well who would protect them from Tony?

He saw the reason Bruce ran away, understood why he kept running and running. Who wanted to embrace the monster inside of him? But while the Hulk was chaotic he was good in many senses, just trying to protect himself. The wolf didn't feel like it could ever be good or used for good. It felt... evil. He could never use it to protect his friends.

And what about Pepper? What would he do to her? He couldn't explain it to her. Pepper would never really understand. How could she? And how could Tony expect her to stay near him if there was a chance he was going to transform into a monster at any given moment, how could he want her to stay? She loved Tony Stark, not Iron Man, and now Tony Stark wasn't even real anymore.

Since their fight - he remembered with a pang that it was because he'd been neglecting her and was too much of an ass to see it - he'd been ripped apart, put back together, and had become something out of a horror film. She was probably still fuming over their fight, angry, wondering when the hell he was coming home.

Home. He shivered, freezing and claustrophobic in the flying steel trap. He wanted home. Not New York, _Malibu._ He wanted to see the crashing ocean outside of his window, feel the heat of the sun on his bare skin, the heat and familiarity of his personal lab, the one where he'd been remade. He didn't know if he'd feel warm again. Bruce rubbed his arms.

"Will they let me leave?" he asked.

Bruce hesitated. Tony looked up at him. Bruce was biting his lip in the dark. "I don't know," he admitted.

"They're going to lock me up."

"No." The word was furious and full of a dark promise. "Never."

Tony looked away. He felt dirty. Suddenly conscious of his body he slipped away from Bruce's arms, who let him go without a fight. He glanced around in the darkness, spotting the bathroom. "I need a shower," he murmured.

Bruce nodded, looking like he wasn't really in the room. Tony left without another word, because really, what was there left to say?

`~+0+~`

Steve walked down the residential block still dressed in his uniform, shield hung over his shoulder. He was at a loss for what to do. Somehow alien threats seemed easy in comparison to there being a werewolf on the helicarrier.

Fury and Hill were busy with the Council and the clean-up crew and hadn't called any kind of meeting yet, despite how long it had been since the attack. Security appeared to be stepped up, however. Several transports had just landed on the deck above, filled with armed soldiers. The gesture was useless, he knew, but what Fury did wasn't any of his concern.

He was just getting back from the medical wing. Barton was grumpy at being tied down in the hospital room and hopped up on painkillers. Natasha had been there as well, refusing to leave his room, her eyes suspiciously red and mood even more dour than normal. Steve wondered when they were going to drop the act and quit tip-toeing around each other.

Further down the wing Thor stood next to Dr. Banner's room, completely at attention. The two scientists had been asleep for maybe eight hours but Thor hadn't asked for a break yet despite Steve's offers to let him have a rest. From what he gathered speaking to Thor, the (man? alien?) felt responsible for what had happened to Tony, like the banished werewolf was somehow his fault, even if it had happened when he was only a baby. He was also upset his visit home hadn't yielded more helpful results - he'd returned with little more information than he'd left with. Steve had tried to convince him it wasn't his fault but Thor politely shut him out and resumed his vigil by the door, glaring down at anyone who stepped too near.

He stopped nearby and leaned his shield against the wall. Thor looked over and nodded. "Hello, Captain," he said, his usual positive air was grave.

"Are they awake?" he asked.

Thor nodded. "They were speaking, but now they are silent. I do not wish to disturb them."

Steve leaned against the wall wondering how things had gotten so messed up. He thought for a moment about what Tony had looked like, a massive mountain of fur and muscle attacking with an agility that no being of that size or proportion should be capable of. He'd thought the Hulk had been fast. The big guy had nothing on Tony.

He glanced at his watch. How much longer before Fury had something to say? Whatever was coming he doubted it would be pleasant. The look Fury had given them as he'd carried Tony to somewhere secluded, Bruce and Thor in procession behind him...

"We're going to have to get Stark out of here," he said, "before they try to take him."

"Let them!" Thor cried. " He did not ask for the curse of the _ulfhedinn_ to be visited upon him. Tony Stark is a mighty warrior who sacrificed himself for millions! I would gladly lay my life down for him, and any other warrior not willing to do the same should perish of shame and be forever denied Valhalla!"

Steve smiled in spite of everything. "Be that as it may, they're still going to try _something._ Stark isn't as in control as Dr. Banner and they wanted to take him despite all the proof he's given us that he's capable of holding back the Hulk."

Steve could tell by the tightening of Thor's jaw that he'd been thinking the same thing. It was doubtful Tony would be leaving the carrier without a fight of some kind, coming from either Fury or from the Council's pawns. "So what do we do?" asked Thor.

Steve didn't have an answer. He knew that if they could fight off the Chitauri they could fight off all of SHIELD, but it would be at the cost of human life. And even if they did get him away from SHIELD, where could Tony go where he would be safe? SHIELD had ways of tracking everyone on the team, eyes all over the world. How could anyone suppose that they'd be able to hide away for any length of time?

He shook his head. It didn't matter. Howard Stark had been a great and invaluable friend. He owed it to Howard, despite what Tony thought of him, to keep his son alive and safe, no matter the cost.

"We'll think of something, and be ready," he said. "We're a team, and team's are only strong when they fight together."

Thor lifted Mjolnir up, his voice rumbled in the hall. "We fight together!"

Steve had seen several of the other SHIELD agents and his teammates do something with their fists, a twenty-first century gesture of camaraderie. He raised his fist and held it out. Thor frowned at it. "What is this?"

"Um... you bump fists. It's kind of a sign of friendship and respect... something people do in this day and age." As socially awkward as he was, he could always count on Thor being just as clueless.

"I see," said Thor grinning. He raised his fist, bumping his knuckles with the Captain's. Steve had to fight the grimace off of his face as a bolt of numbing pain shot from his hand to his elbow - Thor really didn't know how to control his own strength.

Steve took his place next to the door. He resisted the urge to flex his hand.

`~+0+~`

Tony left the bathroom, a towel tied around his waist. Bruce was still sitting on the bed. He was fiddling with the tablet Tony had custom made for him, the light from the display casting patterns of colour over his face. He glanced up once, his face flushed a little, and he looked back down at his work.

"I set out some clothes for you. Sorry if they don't fit right," he said.

Tony picked up the gray sweats and the shirt, plain athletic clothes that SHIELD provided their crew for exercise. He glanced at Bruce, who was already wearing the same thing. "First we share a bed, now matching outfits. People are going to talk, Banner," he joked.

"You're the one that made us matching light up 'Science Bros' T-shirts," he said, not looking up.

"Oh come on, I thought it was a nice birthday present." Tony smiled at the memory as he started to pull on the shirt. Bruce could turn the most fascinating shade of purple when mortified. Tony had more than made up for the embarrassment with the tablet. The reactor glowed dimly through the cotton. _Well_ _this at least beats the hell out of BDU's._

Bruce pointedly looked away as Tony shucked off his towel and slipped on the sweatpants, even though he'd already seen Tony in all his glory more than once in the last twenty-four hours. Banner was a funny guy sometimes, he decided, plopping down on the bed next to him.

"Man, I could eat an entire extra-large pizza from that place Jarvis always orders from on 32nd," he said, rolling his head as he massaged his stomach. "With all the fixings. And a two litre of sprite."

"Mm, and those little cinnamon thingies," said Bruce. "A few boxes of those."

"Damnit. Hungry now. Rather, _more_ hungry. You don't suppose they deliver to the mid-Atlantic, or wherever we are?"

Bruce chuckled. "I doubt it. And even if they did, their thirty minute guarantee would take a hit."

"Damn." He massaged his stomach. "Do transformations always give you the munchies?"

"For me, yeah, always in need of a sandwich after."

Tony ran a tongue over his teeth, now blessedly tasting of peppermint. He'd found a tube of paste and a new toothbrush and had spent five minutes brushing to get the taste of acid out of his mouth. Along with the scorching shower he felt a little revived, a little less dirty.

Bruce continued working. Intrigued, Tony leaned over to see what was so fascinating. Graphs and readouts scrolled across the screen. Simulations, he realized. Bruce was still running his own data against Tony's.

"Anything?"

Bruce shook his head, looking sad. "So far, nothing," he said casually. "My biggest hope is that the Other Guy doesn't eat anything while he's out. Give me your hand?" Tony held it up, a little confused, and Bruce took it, his fingers warm against the engineers cold skin. "Once I woke up with a stomach full of chocolate milk. He'd punched through the side of a tanker full of the stuff. Ugh, did I throw up on that one. I was _covered."_

Tony threw his head back, helpless with laughter at the imagery. "Oh my god, that's disgusting, but- OUCH!" he yelped, yanking his hand away from Bruce, who was smiling. Tony sucked on his now-bleeding index finger.

"That was brave," he muttered, glaring at the tablet. He should have known better to give Dr. Banner a sampling port, when apparently he was one of those doctor's who got kids laughing before he stuck them with a needle.

"The dopamine will counteract the reaction you have to the pain," said Bruce, tapping away at the tablet.

"Doesn't change the fact that you're sneaky and manipulative."

"And you not so subtly cattle prodding me while distracting me with the idea of a big, pretty lab wasn't?" Bruce grinned. Tony muttered the word _troll_ under his breath. "Don't be such a baby." The tablet blinked. "Jarvis, give me a radiation level reading," he said.

"Should I be jealous about your new relationship with him?" Tony asked, inspecting the pad of his finger. The wound had already closed up.

Bruce smiled a little. There was another beep. _"Dr. Banner, I read a .3 percent decrease in radiation since the last obtained sample. Mutation still at full."_

"The radiation is dropping?" he asked, surprised.

Bruce nodded. "Yeah. I retested you when you were passed out in the hospital room. Not a big drop. Just .1 of a percent. It's increasing, though. Still unstable, but increasing. If a pattern develops and holds you might be radiation free in a few months."

"Will that kill the contaminants?"

"I'm not sure. I need to examine samples from the _ulfhedinn_ to be sure just what to expect from you," said Bruce. "It might kill off the virus, or at the very least make it dormant, but not what they left behind."

Tony didn't like the sound of that. Bruce pulled up several pictures, one of the contaminants, and one of a human cell (presumably Tony's), and something else. Something... wrong.

A molecule unlike anything Tony had ever seen appeared on the screen, slowly revolving. Tony was never much of a biology nut, preferring physics and engineering to blood and tissue, but even he could see there was something _wrong_ with the way it looked. Protein chains and nucleotides seemed to fit in the strangest places. There was no sense to it. It was like someone had just decided to say 'fuck you organic chemistry, and fuck all your rules too,' and slapped it together like some creepy modern art version of a molecule.

"What the hell is this thing?" he asked. It was an affront to nature, at least as he understood it.

"It's what the virus is leaving behind. It's what causes you to change."

"How?"

Bruce rubbed the back of his head, looking like he was trying to decide where to start. Pulling off his glasses he turned to look at Tony. "I think it's what made you react so strongly in the surgery room. As well as being terrified, I gave you a shot of lidocaine with epinephrine. I think it's what jump-started the healing process. The molecule in my cells which, for lack of a better title, I call the 'berserk molecule,' is a chemical which is mostly inert. When it comes into contact with high levels of adrenaline it activates, triggering a chemical reaction that causes me to change. From what I can tell the molecule in your system reacts similarly."

"But you don't change every time you get adrenaline in your system," said Tony, thinking of all those times he'd poked and prodded at the man, hoping for a reaction.

"No," agreed Bruce, closing the picture as he leaned back against the wall. "Just high levels. And the longer I've been dealing with control the more I've been able to sort of influence my own body chemistry. It's gotten to the point where I can actually have higher amounts and not completely lose it. Don't ask me how that works. I've classified that under 'magic' and 'yet to be discovered."

Tony watched the moving numbers for a moment. "So basically take the 'playboy' part out of my list of titles, then," he muttered.

Bruce looked at him, raising one eyebrow.

"You know... sex releases adrenaline. I can't have sex without infecting anyone, or giving them radiation poisoning. And even if we find a way so that I _can_ kiss or have sex again, there's still the issue of me raging and turning them into ground beef."

"With practice, the adrenaline release won't be a problem. You'll be able to control it."

Tony clucked his tongue. "Still the small matter of kissing."

"Well, if it's a virus I can make a vaccine. Just give me time and I'll figure this thing out, Tony. You'll be a playboy again in no time."

"You really think you can figure this out? Cure me?" He didn't want to get his hopes too high, even if he couldn't help thinking about being free of what was happening to him. Even if they found a cure to prevent him from spreading the disease, what about the radiation? With a rush of sympathy Tony realized just how fucking hard that it was for Bruce, every day, unable to touch anyone, maybe even kiss them, for fear of killing them.

"Maybe not completely. That molecule is part of you. I need to do some real analysis, look at your genes. If you're anything like me your DNA might have changed."

"What do you mean?"

"Your genes. Your chromosome count. Normal humans have twenty-three base pairs. Since becoming what I am my count has increased to twenty-four. I'm not much of a geneticist, but believe me there's some weird stuff going on with my body. I'm willing to bet things are strange with you as well. The non-coding portions of our DNA have changed so much that I bet most geneticists would cut off their right arm to study us. Pieces that lay dormant in common man flipped genetic switches that have rapidly changed our chemical make-up, which allows us to change. It would be fascinating if it weren't so horrifying." Bruce paused a moment, letting out a sigh. "More interesting in theory than in practice."

Tony could smell a project in the making, if he and Bruce got some time in the bio lab. He wasn't much of a biologist, but the idea of breaking down what made the creature able to exist and finding a cure for it, now _that_ he was interested in.

Tony didn't offer any follow up, getting lost in his own thoughts as he stared at the small picture of the molecule. "You know, I never asked... are you going to turn into a giant green wolf now?"

For some reason Tony couldn't fathom the other man blushed, his ears turning a fascinating shade. "No. My immune system recognizes the virus as a threat. I can't be infected."

The idea Bruce was safe from him made his stomach feel strange and he shifted on the bed. He felt awkward, but he couldn't figure out why. _It's just hunger. Nothing more._

The tablet began to ring with an incoming call. A picture of Director Fury's face appeared with a crudely drawn moustache and parrot courtesy of Tony's boredom and programming skills.

"Play," said Bruce.

The real Nick Fury appeared, sans froofy French 'stache. Tony didn't even feel like glaring at him. The man looked hounded enough without Tony deliberately trying to be an asshole.

"Briefing room, ASAP. There's a situation."

"You'd think invading aliens would be polite enough to only invade when I'm in better health," said Tony.

Fury didn't reply. The call simply disconnected. Tony whistled, low, as he stood up and looked around for some kind of footwear. "I think his sarcasm has been broken. Maybe we should be worried."

"I think we should be prepared," said Bruce.

Tony looked back, curious. Bruce's face was grim as he put on his shoes. There was a knock on the door before it opened, revealing Thor and Capsicle just outside of the doorway.

"Has Director Fury called you as well?" asked Rogers.

Tony nodded, still looking at Bruce. Something was off. "Well, let's not keep the space pirate waiting," he said, giving up on shoes and walking out into the hall barefoot.


	8. Chapter 8

"...And so, beyond some superficial destruction to the dry laboratory on deck twelve and the hanger, the only damage to personnel was to Agent Clint Barton. He's expected to make a full recovery. The situation has been completely contained," said Fury. He was standing in the centre of the briefing room, four screens lit up around him, casting the room in blue light. Their faces were blank as they watched him, none tried to interrupt his report, which Nick noted with a measure of unease. On a small screen near his right hand security footage of the attack played. No doubt all of the councilmen were watching the same thing on their own screens, wherever they were. The creature - Stark - met the Hulk with an onslaught of speed and fury next to his hand. He repressed a slight shudder as he turned his attention back to the World Security Council, determined to ride through the debriefing without starting any unnecessary fires. "We're assessing damage costs now, and don't believe we'll need to make a landing to do the necessary repairs. I'll have a full report for you soon."

"See that you do," said one of the councilmen, his thick Russian accent was gruff. "Now, the more pressing issue is whether or not you still feel that Tony Stark is a danger to the other personnel on board, considering the violent and unpredictable nature he now possesses."

 _Of course._ "I still believe that the situation can be maintained. This was a freak accident and will not occur again." He'd do whatever he had to in order to prevent the situation from occurring again.

"No," said another, "it won't. Stark must be removed and detained immediately."

Fury rankled as he stared up at their impassive faces. He'd warned them about the wrath of the Avengers. Six people had stopped an alien invasion, and they wanted to piss them off? Wanted to piss _Dr. Banner_ off? "Need I remind you what I told you earlier? About how the others would react to any attempt to have Mr. Stark detained?"

"No, that will not be necessary, Director Fury. We believe we've come to an acceptable plan of action."

"Well whatever it is, I don't accept."

"That isn't an option, Director Fury. This is an explicit directive, and it has already been put into action."

There was a sound of boots in the hallway beyond the meeting room.

"No, you can't-" Hill's voice rang out, but was abruptly cut off. There was a familiar _phut,_ the sound of suppressed weapons fire, and something hit the ground. Nick had just enough time to draw his sidearm as the door was forced open by two soldiers, both of whom had rifles trained directly at him.

"At ease, Fury," said a voice from behind them.

Fury cocked his weapon as their leader stepped inside of the briefing room. He was fairly certain he could put bullet holes into both airmen before their trigger fingers twitched or their leader even blinked. The screens light up the intruder's face, hardened, military, past his prime but still as cunning as ever. He yearned to put a bullet through his eyes just for attacking Maria alone, but forced himself to lower the hammer and his gun.

"General Ross," he said, his voice low. "I'm surprised. I wasn't aware you had the clearance to even _know_ about this station, let alone find it and board it. I'm also surprised you'd be so fucking bold as to step into _my_ house and threaten _my_ people. After all, last time you pissed me off you came off worse."

Ross smirked, pulling a cigar from his pocket. "Karma," he said, lighting it. He blew the smoke towards Fury before he pulled it away from his mouth, his eyes glittering dangerously. "Also, maybe now is the best time to inform you about my promotion."

"Promotion?"

One of the directors spoke up, her voice hard. "Yes, the we felt another was needed to represent our Genetics R&D department. After we received intel on the attack, and Tony Stark's subsequent mutation, we decided things were getting out of hand, and Mr. Stark needed to have a proper threat assessment done in regards to his new condition."

Fury snorted, anger prickling at the back of his neck as they went over his head yet again. Why was he even here? "And I imagine this courtesy will extend to Dr. Banner."

"Correct," said Ross. "We all thought that the inclusion of Dr. Banner to the world's greatest powers was a serious misstep, as was denying us access to him for research purposes."

"I hope you know what kind of can of worms you're opening, Ross. I already told the council what would happen if you messed with my team."

"And it was noted. Councilmen? I hope you'll excuse us. Fury and I have a few things to discuss." The screens blanked out, one by one, as they disconnected.

Nick was having a hard time keeping his hands from shaking, so he balled them into fists, swearing that if Ross got one step closer that he wasn't going to be able to open his eye or breathe through his nose for a very, very long time. The man watched him, puffed on his cigar, an amused look playing on his face.

"And just what's your game here, Ross?"

"Beyond taking what is rightfully mine?" Ross chuckled, tapping cigar ash onto the top of the table. "Your Avenger's all have hearts, Fury. The trick is knowing how to puncture them. Tony Stark and Bruce Banner will come willingly with me." He clicked his fingers and several more of his soldiers walked in. Major Sparr, Ross's deluded right hand, set a lap top up on the table, and two more airmen carrying the prone body of Maria Hill walked through the door. A tranquilizer dart protruded from her neck. She was laid down in the corner, and there was a click of a gun as one of the soldiers leveled his sidearm at her chest. "If you don't want my men to put a very literal hole in Maria Hill's heart, I suggest you call a team meeting."

`~+0+~`

Was it just her, or were there an inordinate number of armed soldiers on patrol? Natasha knew that it was never 'just her.' She'd built her life and reputation on her ability to see and read into things that regular people could not. Since the second attack security had doubled, all of them unfamiliar to her. Faceless airmen who happened to be in the right place at the right time to gain the right level of clearance that allowed them onto the helicarrier. Natasha would normally chalk it up to Fury's paranoia to keep people safe, but something about the situation was rubbing her the wrong way. The whole thing seemed too convenient.

She'd been deeply suspicious when two agents she didn't know entered Barton's room and informed her Fury required her assistance in a situation which had just occurred. She demanded to know what the situation was, but the two grunts had no idea, or at least claimed to have none. Add that to the fact that Fury hadn't called her personally and it put her into a rather sour mood. She was prickly enough that Clint had been injured, and then someone was demanding she leave him? Obviously they hadn't known who they were talking to.

"Go, Nat," Clint had said, his voice soft.

She turned to look at him. His skin was mottled with bruises, and the worst of it was heavily bandaged and hidden from view. She'd stopped counting stitches after one hundred. His gray eyes that always saw more of her than she wanted were dulled with the painkillers she had made him take. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm fine. Go help save the world," he smiled a little. "They might really need your help."

And with that she'd left, shooting mistrustful looks at the two nameless agents who had taken places on either side of the door. She made her way into the control room. Both Fury and Hill were absent, the room was still full of people working diligently but something was... off. Guards flanked the entrance to the debriefing room, everyone at their stations were nervous.

She glanced at Agent Sitwell, one of the bridge leaders. She usually had a good rapport with him, at least as an acquaintance. Even he seemed tense, sweat beaded on his bald head. She took a slow breath as she nodded at him in a passing greeting.

 From the opposite end of the room her other teammates entered, Rogers in the lead, Thor one step behind, and Tony and Bruce bringing up the rear. All of them were looking around just as suspiciously as she was. She fought down a prickle of fear at the sight of Tony. He looked no different, but it was like the virus inside of him had made the shadows deeper around him, like the threat of the Hulk used to do to Banner. He wasn't responsible for what had attacked him but it was difficult to remember after looking at Clint, splayed on the ground and covered in blood.

Natasha walked up alongside Rogers. "What do you think?" she asked, keeping her voice low as they climbed up towards the briefing room.

"Nothing good," he replied, tense.

She agreed but didn't say anything. The two guards stood at attention, hands on their M-4 Carbines. She couldn't see the clips, but she could tell the guns had been modified. But for what? She glanced back. Stark and Banner were staring at them. Banner's hand was on the other man's shoulder, directing him towards the door. His lips were moving in a tremble, whispering words of encouragement and advice to Tony. She had a bad feeling that they were heading for a trap, and the opaque walls of the briefing room did little in the way of taking away from her unease.

Two more grunts pushed away from the wall below and fell in step behind their group. The message was clear. _You're all going in there whether you like it or not._ It wouldn't take much to take these guys apart and get away, but at what cost? If Tony or Bruce lost it the entire control room would be destroyed, countless lives lost. This wasn't the place for a fight.

The door opened and Natasha and Captain Rogers stepped over the threshold. Fury stood at the head of the desk, hands behind his back. His face was unreadable as ever. Behind him, back to their group, was a man in a green uniform. She didn't fail to see the three stars on the shoulders of his uniform, and scanned what she could see. Average height, cropped white hair, rigid stature, the stink of a cigar somewhere. On his finger was a Culver University ring. Her stomach tightened with recognition.

She looked at the others - a hard faced woman in BDU's, six other soldiers, all with their guns trained on the five of them.

The trap was sprung.

She heard Banner's sharp intake of breath, knew he had figured out what she had.

"What the hell is going on here, Fury?" Rogers demanded, his voice full with the authoritative ring that had inspired loyalty in thousands and fear in even more.

"We warned you, Director, not to attempt to take Tony Stark by force," Thor's voice was a low growl.

"I'm afraid things have been taken out of my hands," was Fury's reply, unmoving, his face grave.

 _He's handcuffed,_ she thought, clenching her fists. That prick actually had the stones to handcuff _Nick Fury._ She started to mentally calculate how long it would take the four of them - Tony could not be counted upon, not in his condition - to incapacitate everyone in the room. She glanced at the solider closest to her, deciding she'd start by using a palm thrust to crush his larynx and finish with a kick to his left clavicle.

The general turned, a smile playing on his face. He pulled the half-smoked stub of cigar from his mouth, blowing the smoke up into the air. "So glad you could join us in a timely fashion," he said, his eyes focused beyond her left shoulder. She knew without looking he was staring at Banner, his eyes dark with loathing. "A first meeting for some, a happy reunion for others."

"This was a very bad idea, Ross," said Bruce, his voice dangerous. The sound was like a finger sliding down her spine, filling her with dread. She had a flash back to the lab when Bruce had been on the verge of transforming, and wondered how Ross could look at him without fearing what lurked beneath him.

"I don't think so. Would you care to know why?" he waved his hand. "Major Sparr?"

The woman stepped forward, turning a laptop hooked into the central console towards her. She entered an activation key and the four large screens which surrounded the table flickered on.

Natasha looked up. At first glance they were different, unrelated, videos of people, some with two to a screen, some without. A bolt of shock coursed through as she focused on the one furthest right. It was Clint's room in the med bay. He was slumped to the side of his gurney, eyes closed, blood trickling from a new head wound. A gun was pressed against his temple. He was in danger, and she had left him vulnerable.

She glanced at the others, feeling a wire tighten around her stomach. The rest of the screens showed women. Several Natasha recognized. Somewhere Maria Hill lay unconscious in front of a CCTV feed, a gun trained over her chest. Two were visible through a telescopic lens. Natasha was certain the lens was attached to something much more lethal than a camera. One of the views showed a diminutive, brown haired woman typing on a computer, back to them, her head bobbing in time to music they couldn't hear. At Thor's sharp intake of breath she knew it was Dr. Jane Foster. Another was Pepper Potts in a board meeting, standing at the head of a table, unaware that she could die before twelve strangers. She was smiling and gesturing as she pointed to figures on a board. A low whine was all she heard from Tony.

The last two were completely unfamiliar to her, but she could guess one of them. One was a CCTV feed of a university class, a tall long haired woman stood in front of the class speaking. She had a bright, beautiful smile. Dr. Elizabeth Ross? The last was a blond girl sitting with her friends in school and looked to be around sixteen or seventeen. Whoever she was, she was in some way important to Steve.

To put it simply, Ross had them all by the balls.

"Now, I understand you are all protectors of the world. The Avengers. Such an awe inspiring name. I could threaten the safety of the helicarrier, but I always have believed that those closest to us hold the most sway over our decisions. If any one of you decides to attack, all of these people will die. And I am sorry I over-looked you, Rogers, but you don't really have anyone left alive to worry about. Although I have found the granddaughter of Peggy Carter, and it would be a shame if she didn't return from high school to see her parents."

Steve's breath was rough beside her, his hands had clenched into fists. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Ross beamed at them all, tapping ash to a growing pile in front of Nick, who had closed his eye, a snarl curling his lip.

"That's pretty interesting," she heard Tony say from behind her, confidence overshadowing the anger and fear he no doubt felt. "All this, just so Bruce and I will come quietly?"

"That's correct. We have to do a full threat assessment on you both. If you refuse to cooperate, someone's trigger finger might slip."

"Even for you, Ross, that's sick," said Banner, his voice rife with disgust. Natasha looked back at the clip of Ross's daughter teaching away without a care in the world. She said something that must have been a joke because her class began to laugh with her.

"Oh, I won't kill her. But I have enough people close enough by to arrest her and lock her in a hole for a very long time," he said. "So the question remains - are you going to come quietly, or are there going to be several high profile murder cases on the evening news tonight?"

There was a tense silence. Natasha broke it. "You know that we'll find them both. And we'll make you hurt."

"I wouldn't make threats if I were you," he said, waving one hand at the screen closest to her. "One word, and Clint Barton's brains get sprayed all over that room."

She clenched her fists, knowing that if he said the world the pain she'd visit on Ross would be very lasting. He wouldn't have the pleasure of dying for a long time. He smiled at her, like a man observing a willful, angry kitten. She imagined reaching out and plucking the eyes out of his face.

"Easy, Xena," said Stark, stepping forward. The guns followed him. Bruce, after a moment, stepped with him, fists clenched at his sides. "Obviously we don't have a choice. We'll go willingly."

Ross nodded, his expression almost amiable, friendly. He snapped his fingers and two airmen came forward, each of them holding heavy duty steel handcuffs. They held out their hands, and the _clack_ of the handcuffs was final, almost like a death knell in the silence.

"You have no idea what you're starting, Ross," said Banner, his voice rough.

"I think I do. We've got some sedatives tailored to your exact needs waiting. Well, not for Stark, but if it poisons him, I understand his newfound mutation gives him excellent recovery time. Take them."

Four airmen surrounded them, nudging at them with the barrels of their guns. The others continued to point at the rest of the team who watched, powerless, as their friends were forced from the room towards an uncertain fate.

Tony turned to look at her before he reached the door, his brown eyes trying to convey some hint. "Hey, you know, while Bruce and I are gone, you guys should try and have a vacation or something. I hear Rhode Island is great this time of year," an airman nudged him between his shoulder blades with the barrel of his gun, but Stark ignored him. "I went there once with this friend of mine. Kicked my ass at a party once. Seriously. Rhode Island. Check it out."

The guard shoved him through the doorway, ignoring Tony's protests. Once the two of them were out in the open, the other guards lifted their guns and took aim.

"Fire!" Ross barked.

The suppressors turned their reports into soft, barely heard snaps. Both Banner and Stark stiffened, their backs full of hypodermic needles, and before they could react they both fell, hitting the ground hard.

Natasha was unable to suppress a cry. Bruce looked back, his eyes flickered green, and he slumped to the decking.

Ross stubbed his cigar out on the desk, leaving it to smoulder. "Let's get out of here. And I wouldn't think about trying to follow us - I have a very special heart monitor. My heart stops beating, and a signal will go out to every one of my people who are looking after your loved ones."

Ross left the room, leaving the images to play on the screens as Major Sparr and the remaining airmen followed him into the control room. Unmindful of the syringes in their backs, Tony and Bruce were rolled over and carried towards the deck.

Natasha didn't waste a second walking around Fury to examine the handcuffs. They were the same design as the ones they'd used on Tony and Bruce. She pulled out her lock-picking kit and set to work while the rest of the group - now sadly diminished - began to yell in anger.

"What the hell was that, Fury?" Rogers voice roared through the briefing room. "Letting them just walk in and take them both?"

"Obviously I didn't have a choice, Captain," said Fury. "I could warn them against doing what they did but if a directive comes from the World Security Council we can't technically say no." He grunted as Natasha snapped the cuffs open. She pulled them away and tossed them onto the table, adding a crack next to the one Bruce had made earlier that day. "They sent Ross without informing me, and he infiltrated while I was busy meeting with the other Directors. From there he held Agent Hill hostage."

Thor was glowering at Fury. "While I find the fact that you allowed your flying steel fortress to be infiltrated reprehensible, I understand that lives might have been lost, and a true warrior must always put the lives of innocent's first."

Fury grunted, glaring at all of them.

Natasha decided to cut in before it became a fight. "It doesn't matter now. We might not be able to stop them," she thought again about how much she'd like to hurt Ross and stored the urge away for later, "but Stark gave us plenty to work with."

"Um, _what?"_ said Rogers. "When was that? Before or after he spouted a bunch of meaningless dribble about Rhode Island?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. _Child._ She glanced up at the screens, happy to note that Clint, while still unconscious, was alone in his hospital room. The other screens went out one by one as the transport they'd flown in took off into the skies.

"That wasn't nonsense," she said, pulling out her phone. "Nick?"

He nodded, getting on the com. After demanding a medical team come to the bridge he set out a protective detail and warning to the authorities to look out for Potts, Foster, Ross and the mystery girl.

She pulled up her contacts list and flicked through it.

"So has Tony Stark left us with a clue for their rescue?" asked Thor, looking just as puzzled as Rogers.

She nodded, deigning to answer, as she tapped on one of the contacts and held the phone to her ear while it rang.

The voice that answered was clipped with authority. "Who is this?"

"I didn't think you'd forget me that quickly, Lt. Col. It's me, Natalie Rushman."

"Or more appropriately named Natasha Romanoff. I did my homework. What do you need with me?"

"It's not that I need you. Tony's been in a situation. I can't get into all the details because time is wasting, but he's been taken by General Thadeus Ross, along with Dr. Banner. We need you to extract them without killing Ross, if at all possible."

"My pleasure. You got coordinates?"

"Not exactly," she said, breezing past the others and into the control room. "But will the ID and tracking codes for the aircraft do?"

"It will do wonderfully, Miss Romanoff."

"Call me Natasha," she said as she stopped by the main console and pulled up the codes up from their landing.

"Only if you call me Rhodey."

She gave him the codes and wished him luck, telling him she would contact him once she had a  solid plan for an interception. She could already hear the suit coming to life on the other line and wondered if she caught him mid-flight. He thanked her and hung up.

She turned to look at what remained of their team. "Alright, now it's our turn to figure out a plan of action."

"Got anything in mind?" asked Rogers.

"Getting the hell out of dodge," she said.


	9. Chapter 9

When Bruce came to could tell he was flying. Only aircraft engines rumbled that loud. He shook his head, his back on fire. He could feel the needle points digging into his flesh but was unable to draw the Hulk forward despite the pain and the pressing need. Whatever was in that serum was doing its damn job. Bruce almost felt human.

He opened his eyes. The roof of the aircraft was steel, exposed beams and plate. The only light came from the windshield beyond and a few, small white lights. He looked at the windshield - they were flying east. It must be getting late - the sky was starting to darken on the horizon. The two in the cockpit were hidden from view.

He looked over his left. Across from him Tony was strapped to the bench with strong steel straps that were probably custom made just for him. He was still unconscious, his head lolling back, rocking to the vibration of the engines. He tried to use the sight to draw the Other Guy forward but he wouldn't come. He was asleep somewhere, lost to him.

"Welcome to the world of the living."

The voice was one from his nightmares, filled him with the deepest hatred and disgust. He tried to pull at his restraints but they were even more solid than Tony's. The steel cut his wrists as he struggled, baring his teeth, reaching inside for any sign the Hulk was there.

"I'd stop struggling if I were you, or I'll dose you again and put you to sleep."

Bruce relaxed, turning his head as he searched the plane for the loathsome creature which belonged to the voice.

"There's the source of the stink," he said, glaring at him.

Ross smiled. He sat in the passenger's seat, a rifle undoubtedly filled with more tranquilizers laying in his lap. Bruce knew that was a superfluous precaution. He would only shoot if he were afraid of the Hulk coming out. Bruce knew that if he really were to sedate him again he'd want the pleasure of being close as he rammed the needle into his neck, the pleasure of watching the hate in Bruce's eyes as the tranquilizer spiked in his system and shut him down.

In addition to the airman flying the transport there were several more grouped further down, near the cargo hatch. It took a Bruce a moment, but he recognized the interior design - it was one of the _Black Wolf_ transports.

"Sleep well?" Ross's voice was smug.

"Oh, wonderful. I give your hotel three stars. Sorry, but it has a shit welcoming committee." He started to search within himself for the Hulk but was still alone in his mind. Rather than feeling the satisfaction the idea of being rid of the Other Guy should have caused, he was panicking. He had to get out of here, and if Tony woke up he had no doubt his increased metabolism would burn through the sedative fast and he'd rip apart the hanger and everyone in it in maybe two minutes. _Maybe._ "Do you pay your soldiers by the bullet because ten tranq's in the back seems like overkill to me."

"Well, you know how mercenaries are, Dr. Banner. They rarely listen to orders."

Bruce snorted, remembering the disgusting mess that the mercenary ( _Blonsky?_ his mind supplied) had become. Not one to be drawn out into a trip down memory lane he started to check his restraints for weak points.

"I apologize for the lousy service. It's not often we get freak accident mass murderers and mutants here," said Ross. He stood, lording over him, smiling down so fucking satisfied. Bruce felt a bolt of anger and his entire body quivered but _nothing happened._ He wanted to scream.

"Just so you know, it's not _my_ disappointment you should be worried about, although that's something. It's _his,"_ he tossed his head at Tony.

"And why's that?"

"You remember how dangerous I was when I first woke up," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Or has your arm stopped hurting when the weather turns foul?"

The butt of the rifle slammed into his forehead with a dull thud, hard enough to make him see stars and daze him. He felt blood trickling down his brow and into his hair as his head throbbed with pain. Rage prickled, but still the shadowy presence remained elusive. It was maddening.

"He'll rip you apart, General," he said when his voice came back, each word like a dull spike of pain in his brain. "He won't stop at a bite. He'll turn you into mincemeat. You thought the Hulk was bad? He's got claws that can rip through steel."

"We have taken special precautions with Stark."

Bruce blinked, looking back over at his friend. In addition to Tony's restraints an IV ran into his arm, continually pumping something bluish into his veins.

"It's probably poisoning him," Ross continued, unconcerned. "If he were a human we'd be worried about permanent brain damage, maybe a coma. But you've already over lined his healing capabilities - six thousand percent, I believe? It will be interesting to see what it does to him."

He was holding a tablet. _Bruce's_ personal tablet, one that Tony had specially crafted for him and given him for his birthday. He tugged uselessly at the steel restraints, glaring.

"Well, this data will be _very_ useful." He set it down next to Tony and turned to look back at Bruce, who was baring his teeth at him. He seemed amused.

Bruce glanced at the IV line again. "When did you develop that?"

Ross glanced at the line. "We modified it from Dr. Sam Sterns's design. All of the data and the blood from the lab were very useful."

"Right. As useful as the abomination it created? Where's he at nowadays?"

Ross smiled. "That's classified, Dr. Banner."

"I'll bet it is. You always chase me, because you think I'm a monster and a key to bringing you fucking success, but you know what? The only monster in here is you. You were willing to sacrifice innocent lives, _your own daughter and a teenage girl who has done_ nothing _to_ anyone. You're disgusting."

Ross opened his mouth to reply when an alarm went off from the cockpit. He tried to look forward but the airman was hidden behind the chair. Ross went over to him and leaned over the dashboard, blocking the windshield and the blue sky beyond from view.

"What is it?"

"Bogey, coming in hot sir."

"What is it, one of Fury's? He's got to be pretty damn stupid to try something like this."

"Not Fury's. It's... small."

"Alert our escorts," said Ross as he slipped into the pilot's chair. "Evasive manoeuvres, prime the weapons systems."

"Sir, we're a transport-"

"We've got guns, now get the systems _online!_ He's not taking Stark or Banner while I'm still alive to draw breath!"

The craft banked and Bruce felt the wind knocked from him as he was rocked to the side in his restraints, head throbbing as it cracked into the hard steel seat. The IV attached to Tony's arm fell with a crash, the bag splitting in a wash of blue fluid, spraying the ground and walls. Storage boxes tumbled from their places, strewn over the floor. The airmen tried to compensate but even they were falling, their guns clanking against the metal, their bodies slamming into each other with muted thuds and yells. If Bruce wasn't so afraid of dying in the craft without seeing through some of his hopes and ideas he would have been laughing at the spectacle. Who was Ross hiring, the fucking three stooges?

An explosion rocked the craft, jostling him in his harness. Through the small window something big -  like a wing - flew past. Ross was swearing, the pilot yelling. "Phantom two is down!"

Another burst of machine gun fire and something silver flashed by. There was another boom, this one rocking the craft, and there was a crunch. He yelled, wincing at the sound of twisting metal.

"Our weapons have been neutralized, General Ross," said the pilot. "It's one of Stark's!"

Tony's confusing words and urges of a vacation suddenly made sense.

Fucking _Rhodey._ Now he _did_ laugh as the craft banked again, and he wondered if he was going insane. Chances were it had happened a long time ago and he'd only just become aware of it.

The laugh turned into a yelp as a new shockwave rocked the craft, jarring him against the bench. He tasted blood as he bit his tongue.

"Phantom one is down!" yelled the pilot. "Bogey is targeting us."

There was a heavy thud from the side of the craft, like something had collided hard with the outside of the transport. The metal protested for a moment, and there was a crack - something was pulling at the door to the cargo hatch.

"Shake him off!"

"This is not a fighter jet sir, I'm only a transport!"

He tried to twist up, pivoting on the back of his head to watch, but the movement and the strain of holding the position tired him out.

There was another long groan before the entire hatch swung down, snapping as it reached the end of its hinges. Bruce could see the ocean far below and wondered where they were, how far it was to the ground, if they'd survive the trip. He found he didn't care. The entire craft buckled, sending the airmen scrambling in their places, just so they wouldn't be sucked out into the world beyond. One of them stumbled, lost his grip, and was launched out into space, his arms wind milling as he fell, his scream echoing behind him. A parachute opened behind him, a brown dot on the blue expanse beyond.

A silver figure, tall and imposing, landed in the entrance to the craft. His eyes glowed white as he surveyed them. "Well, well, what do we have here?" the voice was amused and full of energy, despite the fact he'd just shot down two F-18's and dismantled a carrier in a matter of minutes.

"SHOOT HIM! SHOOT HIM!" Ross was screaming.

The remaining airmen opened fire. Bruce yelped, turning his head as bullets ricocheted into the interior. There was a crack as one hit the windshield, several more pinged off of the metal beams and walls. One found its mark in Bruce's tablet which exploded in a burst of glass and sparks, and he found himself thankful that he'd had Jarvis remotely back it up to Stark Tower's servers.

"Cease fire!"

"That's smart," said War Machine. "You've taken a friend of mine. I'm here to take him back, General Ross."

"Did Fury send you?" Ross demanded, his eyes narrow bloodshot slits.

"Nope. Tony has a tracking device implanted in his arc reactor. I noticed it had no business being where it was, and he wasn't answering my texts, so I decided to make a house call. Good thing, too."

Bruce smiled, wondering if that were true as Ross looked at Tony in disbelief. Nothing gave him more pleasure than to know that the man in the passenger's seat was well and truly fucked over. The idea that he was set up for disgrace again filled him with glee, and the look on his face was one Bruce would treasure later, when he was finally allowed to let the other guy out again.

"I'm taking Dr. Banner as well, you understand. Of course you do. Now," he reached down, picking up the rifle that had slipped free when the craft had buckled, "go to sleep."

He fired. The tranquilizer imbedded itself into Ross's chest and the general slumped over in his seatbelt with a low groan, his eyes rolling up. Rhodey turned to look at the remaining airmen, who were all looking at him with mixed disbelief.

"Fuck off," he said.

They all unbuckled their seatbelts and jumped for the hatch. Bruce was chuckling as he watched them disappear.

"And you," he said, pointing at the pilot. "Fly steady or your head's going through that windshield."

The pilot didn't reply, but Bruce imagined his hands were shaking.

He hovered over Bruce. His mask pulled back to reveal the handsome, dark face of James Rhodes. Normally Bruce avoided him because he naturally avoided anything to do with the military, but right now Rhodey was an angel. The lieutenant grinned at him. "Good to see you doc. Will that cocktail kill Ross?"

"I doubt it. Maybe it will give him brain damage?" he said, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Rhodey laughed as he pulled apart Bruce's restraints. "So why didn't you go big and green on him?"

"The sedatives have shut the Other Guy down," he replied. He noticed the extra red and gold case attached to War Machine's back. "That for me?"

"For Tony, but you can borrow it, seeing as he's unconscious." There was a squeal of protesting metal as the restraints were pulled off of Tony's body. "The reserve power supply should get you as far as the rendezvous point."

"Sounds good." He pressed a button on War Machine's armour to release it. He loved the Mark V. It was compact and light, and he didn't think he'd feel overly bad if he hulked out inside of it. It was Tony's cheapest and weakest suit.

"You been hit?"

Bruce twisted, trying to get a look at his back. His shirt was a little bloody from all of the tranquilizers he'd been hit with. "Ross went a little overboard. I'm fine."

He set the case down and stepped on the top of it. It split, revealing the gauntlets, and he hauled it up as it closed over his hands. Not a perfect fit, he thought as he sucked in his stomach, but it would do. He watched, fascinated, as all the various pieces closed around his arms and legs. The engineering that went into the Iron Man suit floored him, not for the first time. Each movement of the armour was so precise it was almost sexy. The chest plate conformed to him, and he suppressed a grunt as the tightening of the back plate drove the remains of the needles deeper into his back. The repulsor guns lit up with a whine as the helmet closed over his head and Jarvis's cultured voice appeared in his ear.

_"Dr. Banner, what a pleasant surprise. Does Mr. Stark know you're borrowing this?"_

"He's unconscious right now, Jarvis, but don't worry, I'll make it up to him later." He tested the suit. He'd never worn one before, but the design was so elegant and flawless that it was like a second skin, moving with him effortlessly. He knew the suit was so well designed it was almost telepathic.

_"I'm sure you will sir. Reserve power is at full. You will have thirty minutes of sustained flight at 800 miles per hour."_

Bruce smiled. Tony had been ranting about fixing the 'back up battery' issue. Seemed like he'd done a good job. He stepped over to Rhodey, who was cradling Tony in his arms.

"I'll take him," said Bruce. "It's better you do the shooting if we get intercepted. Also, if he wakes up, he might not be all that appreciative at flying over the ocean."

"So what?" asked Rhodey, handing Tony over. Bruce marveled at the strength increase the hydraulics gave him as he held Tony, who felt as if he weighed no more than a few pounds.

"No one told you?"

Rhodey shook his head, the mask snapping back over his face. Jarvis patched the comlink through to Rhodey's headset and his face appeared on Bruce's heads-up display.

Bruce stepped towards the cargo hatch. It wasn't the first time he'd be leaping into midair, but it was his first aircraft-less flight. He held Tony closer to his chest, feeling a coil of anticipation and fear in his stomach. He fought it down, but the sedatives were still doing their job.

"Tony's been infected by something. I'll give you the rundown later, but basically he wouldn't be that different from me when I get angry."

"Seriously?" asked Rhodey.

Bruce nodded. "Geronimo," he said, and they both launched out of the ship. Bruce smiled to himself with the knowledge that they were leaving the General drooling and slumped behind him without anything to show for himself.

The ocean spread out below them, deep blue and beautiful as they streaked across the sky, the sun setting in front of them.

"Where were they taking us?" he asked, scanning Jarvis's readouts - they were somewhere in the Caribbean. They blew past an oil tanker chugging along below them. His cameras picked up the workers on the ship below, pointing upwards at them. Some were waving and cheering.

"A research facility on an island not far from the Bahamas," said Rhodey. "From what I could find out, it was built for you a few years ago."

Bruce didn't reply. He was enjoying his flight immensely despite the dull ache in his back and head. Rhodey outlined the rendezvous point - a point over the Caribbean ocean not far from Cuba. From there they'd fly out with the rest of their team for destinations unknown. Bruce wasn't sure he'd go along with that. He had half a mind to take Tony and run. Cuba was a good start. He could fly somewhere else in South America, and then maybe head to Asia and find a crowded city to lose the two of them in. SHIELD could chase after their tail for all he cared.

There was movement in his arms. He couldn't feel it - the armour didn't register the minute shifting Tony made as he woke up. Rather Jarvis informed him, and he looked down at Tony, his face slightly warped from the viewing screens.

Tony's eyes opened in shock and he looked down. The sea heaved beneath them and he wrapped his arms tight around Bruce's neck, yelping in surprise.

"Easy there," said Bruce, adjusting his speed so Tony would be able to hear him around the roar of the wind.

"Bruce?" he asked. He craned his neck around and caught sight of the silver blur that was War Machine. "Ah, Natasha figured it out. Good." They continued to fly together, Tony relaxing perceptibly as he watched the world fly by. "So, how's the suit?"

"Tight," he admitted. He imagined that this was how a woman felt when she wore a corset. Between his stomach and the mess the needles were making in his back he couldn't say it was the most comfortable ride he'd ever had.

Tony chuckled. "Time to hit the gym?"

Bruce ignored him, smiling inside of the helmet despite the ache.

"Well, just so you know, this is the first and last time anybody gets to carry me like some kind of Damsel in Distress, so you better enjoy it while you can."

It was Bruce's turn to laugh. "You're hardly a virtuous maiden, Tony. And I'm not a dashing prince."

Tony grinned, his brown eyes wide and full of mischief. "Oh my hero," he sighed, tightening his arms around Bruce's neck further, whispering into where Bruce's ear would be without the mask on. "Oh my courageous, dashing hero. You have saved me from the clutches of torture, and I have naught to repay you with but my body. Take me and do with me what you will!"

Bruce would never admit how red he got inside the mask, or how he felt that Tony really ought to make certain parts of his suit more roomy as his mind took what he said and spun it out of control. _Stop it, Banner. He's off limits. More than ever now._

"You know, you could drop him. I wouldn't tell," said Rhodey through his speakers, saving Bruce from replying.

Both of them laughed. Bruce held him tighter as he did a slow loop-the-loop, keeping the g-force to a low level. Tony's laugh turned into a whoop that spoke of exhilaration and freedom. Bruce knew it was selfish, but he never wanted to let go.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost caught up askjs...

"Almost there," said Bruce in Tony's ear.

"Thank god," said Tony, wriggling in the unyielding metal arms that enfolded around him. He had the mother of all ass cramps and was eager to get down. As cool as it was to fly through the air without the suit he was getting achy and his arms were sore. The suit wasn't exactly comfortable to rest on for any length of time.

They were sweeping out towards the endless blue, a mass of land looming to their right, the sun shining bright in their eyes. Rhodey was flying further ahead. He hadn't spoken for awhile, which meant either Rhodey was being unusually quiet, or Bruce had turned off the comlink between the suits.

"How much longer?" he said, looking at the rolling waves beneath them. It was a little hypnotic.

"Maybe you can't see them yet, but soon," said Bruce.

Tony felt him slowing down and noticed Rhodey fly on, unaware. The wind had almost stopped, turning from brisk breeze to a gentle caress. He could feel the tropical heat now as Bruce dipped low towards the waves and skimmed maybe fifty feet above them.

"Taking your time?"

"I've got a question, actually," said Bruce.

"Ask away."

"What would you say if I said I could take us away? You don the suit, we'll fly somewhere - Sao Paulo, maybe - and wait for the heat to die down."

Tony let the implications sink in. Bruce was asking him to run away. He was asking Tony to disappear with him, right there and now, and wait it out.

"I could teach you how to control it," said Bruce. "And we could hide. No one would have to get hurt that way."

Tony didn't know what to say. His stomach was tight with anticipation, but he didn't know _why,_ not really. It could have been with the need to stand, to see the others and make sure they were okay, to find out from them that Pepper and all those others were alive and well. But at the same time... it could be Bruce. Bruce knew how to protect in his own way, by hiding, by keeping people safe with his distance. He was offering to both protect Tony, and to teach him how to use distance to protect the ones he loved.

He looked at the silver and red face of the mask, impassive, eyes burning white and merciless, the eyes that would strike terror into anyone planning on playing the wrong games with the wrong people.

There was a click and the mask pulled up, revealing Bruce's kind brown eyes. He looked serious, his chin covered in a layer of stubble that was in need of attention.

"We could. We don't have to go there," he nodded at the empty expanse of sky. Tony looked over but could see nothing yet on the horizon. The dark island of Cuba loomed, but it wasn't their destination. Somewhere, high above the waves, were the others. Maybe they were watching them now, on the radar, excited, relieved. Maybe they would watch them streak away, further and further, until they disappeared. Maybe they would be confused, worried, sad. Maybe they would chase them. Maybe they would catch them... but it wasn't likely.

"I don't know, I-"

"It's alright," said Bruce, quickly like he didn't want Tony to feel doubt, which was pretty much impossible no matter what the decision. "We can go along with what they want, too. But remember, the offer's always on the table. We can leave at any time. I can protect you, and in turn, you'll learn how to protect yourself."

He didn't say anything about the sacrifice it would be, because no matter where Tony went, with the others or just with Bruce, he was going to be sacrificing everything until they'd either cured him or made things right with SHIELD and affiliates. Wish as he might, nothing was going to be the same again.

"Let's see what those guys can do, first," he said. "If we have to, we can always..."

He let the wind finish his sentence. Bruce nodded, smiling a little. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

Tony shook his head. "No. Just made me realize the kind of options I have."

"Just think about it," said Bruce. He nodded at the sky. "There they are."

Tony turned to look, scanning the horizon. "I don't see... Wait, where's Rhodey?"

"Look harder, Tony," Bruce chuckled as their speed picked up. "Eleven o'clock high."

The engineer squirmed, letting go with one arm to turn better in his arms, squinting at the sky through the orange sunlight. After a moment he noticed a shimmer, and one by one mirror-like panels folded away revealing a large military transport gliding through the air towards them. It was twice the typical size of the SHIELD carriers, made for long distance sustained flight and equipped with heavy duty weaponry.

Tony whistled. "Is that a _Black Wolf_ Mark III? Looks like they stole Fury's hotrod. We're travelling in _style."_

"Mm. Yeah," said Bruce, but he didn't sound the least bit enthusiastic.

Tony looked at him and  saw the bruise on his forehead for the first time. "What the hell happened to you?"

"This and that," he said, tight lipped. "Let's just say Ross and I had a disagreement, and my body doesn't heal as fast as yours."

"You're hurt?"

"Don't worry about it. Let's just focus on landing and not tumbling into the ocean."

They cut a wide arc around the transport. Tony could see inside of the cargo hatch as they drew closer. Barton and Romanoff were probably in the cockpit, but he could see the hulking forms of Thor, the Captain and Rhodey inside. He waved and Rogers waved back.

"Alright, you're going to need the repulsor stabilizers if you don't want us to crash head first into the cockpit," said Tony, shifting in the metal arms. "Don't tell Pepper about this."

"Wait, what?" Bruce flushed red as Tony shifted, wrapping his arms around Bruce's neck as he moved his legs from his steel grasp and effectively straddled him. He winked, and Bruce looked past him, blushing so hard it looked like his cheeks were bruised. Tony enjoyed the image. Bruce was so easy to tease.

"Easy big guy, no need to get excited." Tony laughed and Bruce huffed in annoyance. "Just use the repulsors so we can land without, you know, cracked skulls."

"Right."

"Jarvis will post instructions on the HUD, so..."

Bruce nodded and the mask snapped up. Tony got one last glimpse of the expansive, cloudless sky before they dipped and the world righted itself. Tony was grinning as the wind from the repulsors whipped the air inside the cockpit into a frenzy, twisting his hair and clothes about until he was sure he looked wild. The second the boots touched the deck Tony slipped from his arms, hitting the deck a little awkwardly and wincing at the hard steel on his bare feet. He _really_ needed to get a pair of shoes. He stretched out his tight strained muscles as he turned to face Bruce, who had retracted the mask again. He was wincing, hair matted to the side of his head.

Bruce's voice was strained when he spoke next, cutting through the sounds of greetings from their teammates. "Help me get it off."

Tony stepped forward while the ramp closed behind his friend. He reached out and pressed the auto releases behind his shoulders. At once the armour started to slide into the open position, each carefully crafted plate moving fluidly as it retracted. When the suit withdrew from his chest Bruce let out a hard breath and several drops of blood hit the ground. The second Bruce was able to let go of the gauntlets Tony tossed the case aside where it clattered into several storage bins. The physicist fell to his knees taking deep gasps of air.

Tony shouted in alarm. Bruce's T-shirt was wet with blood, his arms shaking. Underneath his tangle of matted curls he could see a large goose egg, crusted over with dried blood. Behind him he could hear the Captain bellowing for a first aid kit and the scramble of bodies getting out of the way.

The engineer dropped to his knees, supporting his friend. "What the hell happened?" Despite all the time they'd had to talk while they flew, Bruce had amused himself with acrobatics rather than say anything about what had gone on in the transport with Ross.

"When we got shot they never bothered to remove the needles. Looks like your body did a good job pushing them out," said Bruce, wincing. "The pain just snuck up on me when we landed. I didn't want to alarm anyone."

 _"Fuck_ alarming anyone," said Tony. _I should have protected him. He never should've had to carry me out of there._ The rolling, angry presence in his chest seemed to awaken then, like a beast sniffing the air beyond the lair where it slept for too long. He felt his hand shaking as everything stepped up. Once again senses he was barely aware of crackled on. He could smell Bruce's sweet and spicy sent, all the more potent with the scent of his blood.

"Keep a lid on it, Tony," Bruce's voice was low, warning. "Now is definitely _not_ a good time."

"I can hear your heart," he said, bewildered. It wasn't the dull vibration heard with your ear to the persons chest - it was harder, stronger, a real sound. Vital. He swallowed. The sound was fascinating. It was something he could listen to for hours.

"Your eyes are changing. You're getting too close."

"I'm not angry," he mumbled, even though he could feel anger towards Ross, that motherfucking shit stain on the pants of society, could feel fear because Bruce was hurting, and fear that he could transform and break everything nearby because the scent of blood made him dizzy and he didn't know why, just that it was so good and so bad all at once.

"Liar." Bruce reached up and placed a hand on his cheek. "Just look at my eyes, alright? Don't think about all of that. Don't listen. Just look. Okay? Just me and you."

Tony nodded even though his palms were moist and heat was starting to build in his muscles.

"I'm sorry," he said, feeling like an ass.

"Shut up," was Bruce's reply as he clung to his arms, staring up at him. For once Tony didn't argue.

Natasha appeared with Rogers, kneeling down behind Bruce's back, while Thor and Rhodey stood against the side of the wall looking down at them. Tony didn't look up to see James's face. He didn't want to see the apprehension there, and instead focused on Bruce. He could see Steve, first aid kit open at his knees, hands full of bandages.

There was a snap as Natasha pulled on a pair of latex gloves. Steve followed suit. Tony wondered why for a moment before he remembered. A drop of Bruce's blood could give them a deadly dose of gamma poisoning. Bruce's voice was clinical as he described the problem, and Natasha pulled the kit towards her and selected a pair of scissors.  When Steve reached out to touch Bruce's back Tony felt a snarl rip out of his throat, loud and sharp in the cargo bay.

Both Rogers and Romanoff recoiled, looks of fear on their faces. Tony heard rather than saw the sharp intake of breath from Thor, and the low oath from Rhodey.

"Tony!" the shout of his name was piercing in the small space. His heart was thudding hard in his chest, like it was trying to escape. Rogers had _dared_ to touch _his_ Bruce. His lip curled, staring down the giant blond male, willing the other to know and understand their place. Rogers wasn't looking away, he could smell the fear and aggression coming from the captain's skin. _Challenge._ He felt his muscles pulse.

"Tony, look at me," he heard Bruce's voice say, and he flinched as a hand touched his face. His head turned, not against his will because he could have stopped it, but because the touch belonged to someone important. Bruce's scent swirled around him. "Tony, come back. They're trying to help. Promise. Just keep looking at me."

The fever heat trickled away as he focused on Bruce, trying to relax. Behind Bruce Natasha's face had become professional and detached once more, and she began to cut the fabric away.

Tony took a deep, shuddering breath. "Fuck, you're bleeding all over the damn ship and _you're_ reassuring _me."_

Bruce laughed, but it was breathy and weak and full of pain. "I'm not the one who's growling."

He became aware of the steady rumble from his throat and cut it off at once, swallowing hard. _You're a human, not a dog._ Tony let Bruce squeeze his arms as he watched the two of them peel off Bruce's shirt, exposing what could have been very swollen, bleeding mosquito bites. The sight set his teeth on edge.

Tony had to bite back another growl as Bruce winced in pain. Natasha moved systematically, her face smooth and blank, squeezing each puncture wound and removing the needles as they became visible. Tony wished he could take some of the pain, it wasn't fair that he wasn't feeling a thing.

"You okay?" Bruce asked.

"Not really," said Tony. He felt weak and sweaty, like he was just getting over a fever. "When it starts to get close all these instincts start to come up. And my sense of smell and hearing..."

It was a subtle change but Tony could see that Bruce had gone from friend to scientist, his gaze a little more keen. "Does the blood bother you?"

"Yes," he said. He also didn't say he _liked_ the scent on some level. It was like Bruce's scent was magnified, it was everywhere. "I can smell you, and everyone else in the ship. I can hear every piece of machinery moving in the walls."

"Ow," Bruce winced, curling over, his fingers digging into the crooks of Tony's elbows as Natasha pulled out a particularly stubborn, bent needle.

Tony growled, low, glaring at her, willing her to look him in the eye.

"Tony, close your eyes, okay?" Bruce's hand tugged his chin back. "Focus on your breathing."

"It's hard."

"I know. Believe me I know."

He closed his eyes, breathing deep. His head tilted, nosing Bruce's palm. He could dissect his scent, identify every note and cadence. It almost had a flavour. Honey with elements of cinnamon and vanilla, and others which turned it into something savoury instead of sweet. It cut out the scent of blood, relaxed him. A part of his mind told him how wrong it was, but it was so small he decided it really didn't matter.

Bruce's fingers were gentle, rubbing his hair. He pressed against his palm. For some reason this was nice. It satisfied something that wasn't really human inside of him. He opened his eyes and Bruce's were watching his, green in the artificial light of the cab, like the Big Guy was staring alongside Bruce, ready to act should need arise.

Romanoff's voice broke the spell. "That was better than it could have been," said Natasha, calm and cool, as she set the tweezers aside.

While Tony had been distracted Rogers and Romanoff had finished bandaging Bruce. Squares of gauze and tape dotted his back. _Jeez, overkill much, General Douchebag?_ He added 'Kick him in the balls' to his mental list of 'Things to Do to General Ross Before he Dies.' At least he could already say publicly humiliating him in his favourite bar was already crossed off the list.

"You okay?" asked Bruce.

Tony nodded. He felt relatively human again.

"Good. I'm going to find a shirt, okay?" At another nod, Bruce pulled away and Tony stood up, swaying a little.

Cap went into the med bay, probably to wash his hands. Still wearing her gloves, Romanoff poured what smelled like straight bleach on the drops which had spilled onto the deck. After another moment all of the rags and bandages were sealed in a bag along with her gloves.

Natasha disappeared into the med bay, leaving Tony standing next to Rhodey and Thor. James was staring at him, wide-eyed. _Oh. Right._

"Uh... hi. Thanks for the save. I'm really quite fond of my body. I didn't need General Douche's goons getting their hands all over me and messing it up. Bruce too," he said, looking over at the physicist, who was digging through a box. "His body is much too nice to let that prick's hands on him," he added with a waggle of his eyebrows.

"Shut up, Tony," said Bruce, his ears turning red.

Tony grinned. It faltered when he looked back at Rhodey, who was still looking at him like he was a zombie or had a tentacle growing out of his head. "Anyway, maybe it really was a good idea to give you the suit. You make a good War Machine. I mean, it's kind of insulting that you still have some of that Hammer shit on it, but still... good job."

"Tony," said Rhodey, looking like he was trying to be very patient. "What. The. Fuck. Was. _That?"_

 _Eloquent as always, Rhodey._ "Got bitten by a space wolf."

_"What?"_

"That pretty much sums up how I feel." Tony shrugged. Sure it wasn't all that explanatory, but he couldn't even pronounce the name of the thing that bit him, let alone start from scratch on the whole crazy story.

"Actually," said Rhodey, "I'm not over-sure I want to know. Debrief me over beer next time you're in Malibu, alright? You're buying."

Tony nodded. "Sounds good." An easy promise to make. It could be years before he saw Malibu again. "And if you see Pep's..."

"Call her, Tony."

"It might not be that simple."

"It really is," he insisted, his dark eyes beseeching him. "Open up the hatch," he said. Red lights flashed as the ramp descended, exposing the dark blue waves below. "Anyway, I'm out of here. I've got a meeting in the morning on the other side of the continent. _Call her,"_ he said, stepping towards the hatch.

"See ya," said Tony, waving. Rhodey saluted, his mask snapped up, and he took off in a gust of wind. He watched him cut a burning line in the sky towards the horizon, dark but for a streak of gold above the ocean. He blinked and he was gone. He thought about Bruce's offer and wondered when he'd see him again, if he'd see him again.

"That Man of Silver is a mighty warrior," said Thor.

"You got it, Thunder," said Tony, letting out a little sigh. "Damn good friend, too."

He turned to look at the others. Clint was invisible in the cockpit, and Natasha was leaving the med bay with Rogers, both without a trace of blood. Thor sat next to Capsicle, and both of them were looking at Tony. When he caught Rogers's gaze the man looked away, towards the cockpit. Tony sighed. _So that's how it's going to be?_

He raised a hand to rub at his eyes and Bruce's scent swirled hard around him, the scent of blood so strong it made his knees buckle. All at once his stomach tightened again, the flash of heat like a low burn rolled over his muscles.

"Damn," he swore, staring at his fingers, smeared over with red. He glanced over at the man it belonged to. Bruce had found a sweatshirt and was pulling it on, back to Tony.

Holding his breath, Tony slipped into the med bay without saying anything. He glanced around once, smirking a little. He had closets bigger than this, but not so sterile. There was just enough room for a tiny cot and a few computers. He covered his hands in disinfectant, listening to the pump in the walls whirr as water splashed into the basin. He couldn't get the blood off fast enough, thinking _good riddance_ as the pink water swirled down the drain.

There was a soft knock at the door. "Yeah?"

Natasha poked her head in through the door. "When you're all cleaned up we'll brief you and get you up to speed." Her smile was warm. Tony appreciated it. The proper reaction to how he'd snarled at her a moment ago would be fear.

He wiped his hands dry and followed her out. The cargo hatch was closed and Bruce was sitting on the bench down from Barton. It was the first time he'd seen him up close since the attack. There was a mess of bandages around his head and arms, mottled bruising on his face and forehead. Guilt burned in his stomach as he stared at him, imagining what it must look like under the dressings, how badly it must hurt. He swallowed hard, debating just locking himself in the med bay for the rest of the flight, briefing be damned.

Clint looked up and smiled at him. "How's it going?" His grey eyes were calm and friendly, which wasn't what Tony expected.

"Um," was all he could offer. _You're such an ass, Stark, say something! Anything!_ "I'm so-"

"No," said Clint, holding up one hand. "I'm allergic to apologies."

Tony smiled then, but it felt weak on his face. "So we're cool?"

"We're cool. You weren't in the driver's seat. Now. Sit."

He rankled a little at the blatant order, but Bruce smiled encouragingly at him. It was all Tony needed. Dropping his eyes from Clint's he slipped down, leaning against the bench rather than sitting on it, next to Bruce's legs. He didn't even think about the free seven feet of space between Bruce and Barton, just sat cross-legged, staring up at everyone else. "So, what's the plan?"

Natasha looked at Rogers. He nodded and stood at the head of the group, looking back at them all. Despite the size of the carrier he still looked imperious, taking up much of the hall as he cleared his throat. Tony felt a mild sting of annoyance, seeing him at the head of the group where he _clearly_ didn't belong, but clenched his jaw and said nothing.

"I'm glad the two of you are okay," said Steve. "Ross won't stop, though, and we need to decide where to go next. Fury implied he would wait until morning to inform the World Security Council that we've stolen one of the transport ships. Agent Hill has informed us, also, that she is going to provide Director Fury with the wrong transmitter codes, so they won't be able to just flip on a computer and find us. They're probably already on the lookout for us, but we're relying on Ross to blame Lt. Col. Rhodes for their disappearance. He'll have a harder time going after a celebrated soldier in the US Army than he will against a group of renegades and an extremely covert agency he already has access to."

"Rhodes was pretty convincing about Tony having some kind of tracking dot on his body," said Bruce. "They're going to be looking at that angle for a little while, at least."

"By then we'll be somewhere we can lay low," said the Captain.

Tony disagreed. He didn't think hiding would do much good in the long run. The Council wasn't going to stop sniffing around just because a few months had passed. He was going to be what Bruce was before the Avengers had assembled and granted him amnesty - a fugitive.

"I don't think that will work," said Bruce, like he was channelling Tony's thoughts. "They won't give up. They never gave up on me. They won't give up on Tony. Not when his condition is so easily duplicated."

Rogers turned to look at the two of them, frowning a little. "The idea is to wait them out until they've relaxed a little. Fury's going to put out the fires, and in the mean time we're going to hide with you."

"They won't relax," said Tony. He wasn't awake for Ross's 'Nefarious Plan' speech, but he knew enough about the prick to know exactly how far he'd go to recover from the shame of being beaten down and discredited. "They're hoping we're the key's to recreating the serum that made _you,_ or making an even better one. Having an entire army of super soldiers is too tantalizing for them to just drop it because we've disappeared off the radar for a few weeks."

"Two won't be any better than six. Trust me," said Natasha, her voice soft but firm. Tony looked at her in surprise. _Well._ She'd seen through their contingency plans. "Running off on your own won't stop them. They'll kill any civilians that get in their way. And if they take you, you'll both be experimented on. I should also add that the Council isn't the only group that wants to study you."

Bruce snorted. "Oh, so, we'll what? Wait for them to come to us? Yeah, that's a much better idea. Wherever we are, even as a _group_ they're still going to attack us."

"We can run as a team!" said Barton, standing up. Tony tensed, watching Barton, ready to spring up between them. "The six of us. Don't assume that none of us understands how to disappear, Dr. Banner."

Bruce made a derisive sound in his throat like he wanted to argue, but he didn't say anything else. Tony looked up for a cue or indication of what to do, but Bruce was staring at the wall, his jaw clenched. He could see his diaphragm moving with deep, hard breaths, and he could smell something... a pheromone that was _like_ fear, but wasn't. He realized after a moment the scent was the Hulk rising to the surface.

Tony felt eyes on him and glanced across the carrier. Thor was staring at him. He raised one eyebrow in question and Thor looked away, his eyebrows mashed together in a hard line.

 _I'll ask him later,_ he thought.

"So... where are we headed, then?" he asked.

Clint had sat back down. He straightened in his seat. "Well... Nat and I were thinking we'd go to one of my places."

"Don't you think they'd look there?" asked Bruce, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Barton shook his head. "One of the perks of being a former assassin is the pay was good, and you can own all sorts of property under the radar. I have a few nice places that no one knows about because as far as the world is concerned they belong to people whom SHIELD has erased all of my ties to."

"Like?" said Rogers, looking intrigued.

"My brother, Barney. I own a place in his name."

"What does he say about it?"

"Nothing," said Clint. "He's dead."

A quiet followed the pronouncement. Natasha was looking at Barton thoughtfully. "You know... the villa wouldn't be a bad idea."

"That's what I was thinking," he said to her, then turned to the others. _"_ It's on Lake Como in Italy. It's very remote, located on a secluded part of the lake backing onto the forest and the mountains. We should be safe there. I can have someone stock it up and give it an airing tomorrow morning."

Bruce sounded skeptical. "SHIELD really doesn't know you own it?"

"Nope," said Barton. "Like Natasha, I wasn't always under the employ of the US government. I went where I was wanted and made some good money. My brother bought the villa, and when he died I just assumed his identity rather than letting it go to me through a will. My brother never really officially owned it, either. The only people in SHIELD who know about it and would never say anything are Fury and Hill."

"Is it remote?" asked Tony. This was critical. If he lost it and got away from the villa he could end up anywhere - in a town or homestead, and the engineer really didn't need anything like that on his conscience.

Clint nodded. "It backs onto the _Triangolo Lariano_ and is only accessible by boat. It's surrounded by hundreds of miles of forests and mountains, and is cut off because of the lake. If you or Dr. Banner gets into trouble there's plenty of forest to run in, and you should be able to be tracked by your arc reactor, so we won't have to worry about losing you."

"I have no objections to this plan," said Thor.

"Sounds good to me," said Rogers.

Everyone turned to look at him. Before giving his input he looked up at Bruce. "So?" he asked.

Bruce didn't look like he wanted to agree, like he wasn't even going to put a vote forward and just go with whatever the group decided. For whatever wild reason, Tony _wanted_ Bruce to speak before him, and nothing was going to make him speak before.

Bruce looked around at everyone and let out a slow sigh. "Alright, it's as good a plan as any."

Tony smiled, telling himself that he was cool with the plan the entire time, and Bruce's affirmation had no impact on how he felt _at all_. He also decided he needed some alone time the second the plane had landed to get his fucking head sorted, but he didn't bother letting that show on his face as he nodded. "Right. Italy it is. Nice this time of year." Bruce didn't look like he'd be hulking out any time soon, so he stretched, standing up. "Now. Big important question time. Do we have any _food?"_


	11. Chapter 11

The transport's steady hum was comforting, blurring into a blanket of white noise that let Tony forget he was sitting in an enclosed space with no way out. In the rush of landing and the meeting, he hadn't had the time to feel claustrophobic. Now that quiet had descended on the carrier Tony felt the entrapment the enclosed metal walls were imposing on him and it was a fight not to flip a switch on the controls and sit on the ramp for the remainder of the trip. He dreaded putting on the suit again, despaired of not being able to. He didn't want the beast to take Iron Man away from him, too. It was too cruel.

He was sitting in the pilots chair, cabin door shut on the rest of the carrier so he could sit in relative peace, staring out at the black expanse of water and night sky, broken only by moonlight and billions of stars. The sight of the stars helped, though he longed for a fresh breeze.

He munched on a protein bar as he contemplated what was in his hands. The others had thoughtfully taken all of his and Bruce's personal effects from the Helicarrier and packed them up along with their own, and that included one of his spare StarkTech phones, which he'd had wrapped up in a pair of socks. The phone was blank and dead, see-through like all of his personal tablets. It was encrypted and any call it made was reported to be calling simultaneously from Hong Kong, Miami, Toronto, Moscow and London, as well as a wide variety of small towns dotting the globe. It was perfectly safe to make a call, but he knew the rest of the team would object.

Right now most of them were asleep as the ship flew on autopilot. Barton and Romanoff had disappeared into the med bay to sleep. At first Tony wondered if it was a combination of over-protectiveness and a way for them to shag despite everyone's proximity, but he soon learned it was because of Thor, who had passed out on one of the benches. It sounded like there was a badger trying to eat a buzzing chainsaw in the hold. In order to escape, Rogers had fled to the tiny bunkroom and Bruce had gone into the galley to meditate for a little while. Sure that the sound would provoke either an episode, or force him to smother the demi-god with a pillow, he'd escaped into the cockpit.

He tossed the wrapper onto the dash, fingering the phone. He had a little bit of work to do when the small carrier landed. The transport needed to be made untraceable by SHIELD, so when they arrived in Italy he had to reconfigure the transmitters and codes. As far as SHIELD and affiliates would be concerned, the transport no longer existed. The carrier would be under the protection of JARVIS and Tony's private, unhackable networks, free and clear from any nosy groups. It was good to be a genius.

But that was for later. He had all night to watch the water, and look at his phone.

He glanced at the door. Everyone was asleep or otherwise engaged. It would probably be his only chance for awhile - Bruce could return at any moment. Tony didn't give a shit about how everyone would get pissed if he used his phone, but he didn't want an argument. He didn't really give a shit about anything, truth be told. He didn't care about where they were going, that he wasn't going to be alone, because none of it changed the fact he was leaving everything he had behind.

 _"So you're a man who has everything... and nothing,"_ Yinsen's voice whispered.

"Maybe," he said. He was a man who only had belongings and a few people that he had no real claim to. Pepper, Happy, Rhodey, Bruce. The rest of the team. And now he was saying good-bye to three of them, forsaking some of the only real things he had in the world.

He turned on the device, slouching in the seat and putting his feet up on the dash. The little tablet booted up, and when Jarvis tried to speak he put him on mute. He'd be saying good-bye to Jarvis, too. Jesus. Even Dum-E and Butterfingers meant something to him, he'd had them since he'd graduated from MIT. He swore, twisting one hand through his hair. Why did the idea of leaving computers behind hurt so much? Maybe because he could talk to them without screwing shit up.

The screen glowed at him as the weather in Malibu, the current stock trends, and headlines scrolled past, making pictures and lines dance on the walls and dashboard.

"Pepper," he said.

Her picture appeared on the screen as it dialed. He imagined the signal bouncing around the world, untraceable, pinging from one tower to another as it found her, wherever she was.

The picture changed to a live feed. Pepper's face was pale, making her freckles stand out like little blazing sparks. A strand of hair draped over her face like a little ribbon of fire. He smiled, despite the fact she was making her worry face at him and he hadn't even spoken yet. He could recognize their silk and rayon sheets and the headboard.

"Anthony Stark, where are you?" she said, her eyes wide, voice edging on anger.

"Did you get married to Justin Hammer while I was away?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

_"What?"_

"No one call's me Anthony except for that tool."

"Tony," she said, her voice edging towards the patented 'Pepper Growl.' He smiled - he wasn't sure why a tone that would normally make him sit up at attention was so welcome and refreshing, but it was. "I've been worried sick. What's been going on? There haven't been any aliens or attacks in the news, but-"

He cut her off before she could start ranting. "I can't get into it over the phone. Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be? Everything's fine." If Fury was worth anything he already had agents on protective details in her office and several posted on buildings in clear view of the penthouse, watching her every move. He decided not to mention it to her. If SHIELD hadn't told her already she could stay blissfully unaware of the threat. She didn't need any more stress.

"That's good. Look, I'm going to be away for awhile. I'm being posted somewhere for a consulting gig. You're going to have to cancel that event thingy I have to do for the... um..."

"The demonstration you were going to give for the _Clean Future Expo_ the arc reactor and Stark Towers, because Tony, you've been booked for months now-"

"Well, I meant that art thingy, but that's important too."

"The 'art thingy' I can get you out of," she said. "SHIELD's never had you posted anywhere before. What's going on?"

"Um... nothing. They just need me consulting, and-"

 _"Tony,"_ she said, her eyes balancing between worry and frustration. "Would it kill you to talk to me for once? What's going _on?_ "

"It's classified," he said, desperate for any kind of excuse. "So... when's that Milan thingy? I might need you to make a detour when you go."

"Milan's not for three more weeks," said Pepper. "SHIELD classified information has never stopped you before."

"Pep, please... I can't. Not over the phone. Now, I don't have any coordinates _yet,_ but-"

"Tony, you can't call me in the middle of the damn night telling me to fly around the globe without so much as an apology for before or any kind of explanation."

Tony swallowed the lump in his throat. Pepper was frowning at him, but her voice was anxious when she spoke again.

"Tony, the last time you were this cryptic and vague you were dying. You're not... in trouble, are you?"

 _I'm going to be disappearing off of the face of the planet, MIA, declared dead, whatever you want to call it. I think I'm allowed to be out of character._ He couldn't say any of it. "No. Just... I've gotta go. I'll send you the coordinates when I get them."

"Tony, you can't just-"

"Look, I can't get into it Pep. Things to do."

"You can't just blow me off like this Tony!"

"I'm sorry," he said, and before she could reply he hung up and switched off the phone.

Pepper's image was still burned into his retinas. He let out a slow breath. "I'm sorry. It's over. I'm not safe. I might hurt you. I'm not coming home. _I can't._ " His imagination wasn't good enough to draw up any kind of graceful ending to that conversation. It was tempting to be a coward, to message her or something, to break it off, but he knew he'd hate himself pretty much for the rest of his life if he did.

He wondered if anyone had thought to bring booze, and longed to lose himself in the sinful haze of intoxication. _Can I even get drunk?_ he wondered as he rubbed at his face.

There was a sound beyond the door. Without hesitating he shoved the phone into his pocket and slouched further in his seat, digging his hand absentmindedly though a box at his left side.

The door opened and Bruce appeared, along with a rising crescendo of noise from Thor's tortured nasal passages. He shut the door behind him, cutting off the buzz.

"He needs nasal strips or spray, or a good smothering. _Seriously."_

Bruce laughed as he sank into the other chair. "Not sleeping?"

"Bruce, between passing out in exhaustion and being tranquilized I'm fairly sure I've had enough sleep to last me the next three days or so."

They both chuckled together in the darkness as they looked out of the windshield. The silence that followed was companionable. Tony wouldn't admit it for the world, but Bruce's presence helped the claustrophobia that had begun to creep up again when the phone had shut off. It was good not to have to be alone.

"So what are the odds we're going to do any research while we're at Clint's villa?" asked Tony, resuming his fishing through the box.

"Not bad. They packed up some of the lab equipment. We've got a spectrometer, and a centrifuge, some microscopes... a few things we can use. No one really _knew_ what to grab, but it could be worse, and Clint assured me that he could get me the enzymes we need for breaking down your DNA through the black market. We'll have to do everything else using your computer. There won't be any real synthesizing of cures without a proper lab."

"Ten floors of R&D and millions of dollars in lab equipment and lackey's to help, and we're stuck going on a vacation to a damn lake house and have to use less equipment than a high school Chemistry class," said Tony.

"I once made a centrifuge out of bicycle tires, an old electric moped engine and a dryer belt," said Bruce, patting Tony on the arm. "We'll be working in style."

Tony rolled his eyes. He pulled two protein bars out of the box and tossed one to Bruce. "Here. I have a perpetual case of the munchies."

"Thanks," said Bruce, ripping the wrapper open. "You've probably got a higher metabolism thanks to the increased regenerative abilities."

Tony shrugged, biting into the chewy bar. He wiggled his socked feet on the dash, staring at his toes. "You'd think with all the lab stuff they stole they could have stolen a pair of shoes for me. Or flip flops, even."

"They probably assumed you were already wearing them."

Tony huffed in annoyance.

Bruce waved his snack. "Where did you find these?"

"Rogers' stash."

Bruce snorted.

They ate their snacks, the crinkle of the wrappers and sounds of chewing were the only thing breaking the stillness. Tony secretly hoped that Barton had the sense to inform his housekeepers to stock up on munchies, because Rogers was about to run out of his supply.

When they ran out of food they discussed what was to come, both with and without the team, taking bets on how well they would live together, how long it would take for Natasha and Clint to admit they were sleeping together. They talked about meditation, breathing, that careful point which Bruce balanced upon between anger and serenity.

They did not discuss the anti-viral which would be so difficult to find, let alone synthesize, and instead focused on what they could touch and control until their voices ran out and there was nothing more than the hum of the circuitry all around them, the steady thrum of the engines, and the vast horizon and the cold moon splashing its light down onto the ocean.

Tony had angled his chair towards Bruce. He looked at him. Bruce's eyes were distant and contemplating as he looked out the windshield. Hope, Tony decided, was a really nice feeling.

Bruce sat up a little straighter. "Shooting stars."

Tony looked out the windshield as a meteor streaked over the horizon, bright and beautiful and sudden. Another two, both smaller but no less glorious, followed after it.

"Make a wish," said the physicist.

He glanced at Bruce. His brown eyes were serious, deep. Something was there, something that made him go dry mouthed, made him want to stop breathing.

Tony closed his eyes and made his wish.

`~+0+~`

"Ohmmmmmmmmm..."

"Tony."

"Bruce. You're throwing off my zen with your words."

Bruce sighed, opening his eyes. Tony's were still shut, but he was smirking. Candles filled the wide bedroom, dotting the patterned stone floor or over the furniture. Both of them were sitting in the lotus position on plush pillows they'd borrowed from Bruce's bed.

"Tony, I swear meditating _does_ help."

"And it is helping. See? Meditating. Ohmmmmmmmm..."

"No. You're mocking me and my methods."

Tony looked up now, still looking amused. His eyes were black and glittering in the flickering candle light. "Sorry. I just don't see the point."

Bruce huffed. "I can control the Hulk better because I used meditation to get to this point."

"With other stuff. Besides, the wolf isn't always there gnawing at my mind."

That wasn't entirely true, even though Tony tried to wave all of that away and claimed nothing was different, but all of the other Avengers knew better. They'd been staying at the villa for a week, hardly enough time to claim complete control. And there was a matter of behavioral change that Bruce had never had to face.

"Humour me with actually _trying,"_ said Bruce.

Tony rolled his eyes before closing them again. He didn't make any more annoying 'ohm' sounds. Bruce had no problem with mantra's - when the user actually believed in them. Tony was thumbing his nose at him. It had been a struggle to get him to drink sencha green tea, and he'd only succeeded after dousing it with enough honey to satisfy Tony's stubborn palate.

Bruce had to rethink his methods, but he didn't want to give up on meditation just yet. Tony might not have rage gnawing away at the back of his mind the way Bruce did in every waking moment, but he did have _something_ affecting the way he interacted with the others.

Back in the transport when they'd intercepted the others a Tony had gotten close to changing just because he'd seen Bruce hurt. It was the only possible stimulus that Bruce could figure out. The vehicle hadn't scared him, the flight hadn't scared him, nor the landing. That only left the blood and the injury. Add in the terrifying snarl when Steve and Natasha tried to touch him and there was no other conclusion that came close. He shuddered a little, remembering the black, dangerous look Tony had given Rogers, his lips peeled back in a snarl, his eyes silver and menacing. It had been like... like a dog or wolf, protecting a member of its pack. He'd glared at Natasha as well, Bruce remembered. The physicist didn't pretend to know anything about canine psyche's or pack dynamics, but he was itching to study a book on the subject. He was a little frustrated that the group had allowed satellite TV, but put a ban on Internet use, like Bruce hadn't gotten away with using it for years while he was on the run. He had half a mind to take the boat to the local town and find an Internet cafe. He couldn't ask the others about it, either. He didn't want Tony to know he was looking into his behavior, he doubted the other man would react well.

The other thing he wanted to study was Tony's increased senses of smell and hearing. Did it reach to other areas of his being? How had his biology changed to allow for an increased number of olfactory receptors? He'd heard of humans gaining training to follow scent trails, but the over-night development suggested something a lot more advanced than simply honing his latent abilities. He'd also said he could hear Bruce's heartbeat. Despite romance novels and fancy suggesting one could actually hear a pounding heart, doctor's needed stethoscopes for a reason.

Tony let out a slow breath, his head lolling down towards his chest. Bruce smiled. Maybe once Tony put his mind to something, he could -

"I just got the greatest idea. We need marshmallows, some PVC tubing, and one of Clint's bows."

_Never mind._

"Alright, hopeless tonight," said Bruce, standing up. "Go on. Go do whatever mad idea you're planning now."

Tony opened his eyes, instantly repentant. "Nonono, I'm sorry Bruce, but when I relax I get ideas, and-"

Bruce rolled his eyes, blowing out candles. He gathered them as he went, setting them into a tray. He stopped at a hand wrapped tightly around his wrist and looked over his shoulder. Tony's eyes were imploring as he pouted. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's just so _boring."_

Bruce sighed. "Tony, I'm trying to help you. For me to get better, it started with relaxation and meditation. Eventually I was able to work up to breathing techniques, but you've only been changed for a week. I can't just start teaching you Brazilian jiujitsu and slapping you off the hop - not if we want Clint's villa to stay in one piece."

Tony leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Bruce's shoulder. Bruce felt heat creeping up over his collar. Another strange quirk of Tony's was a desire for contact. Wherever Bruce went, Tony wasn't far behind. Eating at the table, watching a movie, working in the lab, Tony would always sidle up close, and seemed to relax at the slightest touch of Bruce's hand. It was starting to fuck with Bruce's self control. He'd developed a crush on Tony, which was ridiculous and unprofessional, and... and...

Tony made a little humming noise as he nuzzled Bruce's shoulder, and Bruce felt his hand wobble. He really had to figure out why Tony was so affectionate with him without really noticing what he was doing.

He fought to keep his voice even as he turned out of Tony's arms. "So what do you want to do then?"

"Let me try again," he said, one hand outstretched like it wanted to touch Bruce's arm. "Maybe out on the balcony?"

Bruce sighed, shrugging. "Fine."

They cleaned up the candles together. The French doors which led onto the stone balcony were already thrown wide, the white curtains billowing gently in a light breeze which had swept up from the lake. They took their pillows outside.

Everything was stone in the beautiful mansion. _Villa del All'alba,_ or House of the Dawn, was ridiculously large. It was built to a similar style as the _Villa del Balbianello,_ a famous villa further down the coast of Lake Como. _All'alba_ hugged a small peninsula that backed onto the forest, which swept up over the arms of the mountains behind them, cut off from civilization, which was how Barton liked it.  Bruce had been awed over the size of the place, and marveled at how much the property must cost. Clint happily informed them that he'd turned down prominent billionaires who desired the place time and again. It was a relatively unknown landmark, being so far off the beaten path, and beautifully kept by a family who boated in once per week to do upkeep on the grounds.

Bruce looked up at the millions of stars dotting the sky. One thing about New York, and Kolkata, was that you never saw the stars. The moon, nearly full and smiling with some kind of secret on her round white face, hung above them, making spangles of light glitter on the water. Even from up on the third floor they could hear the gentle lap of the surf on the shoreline.

"Full moon tomorrow night," he said, throwing down the pillow.

Tony glanced up once, his brown eyes glittering in the faint light. "Don't expect me to howl."

Bruce smirked. According to Thor, the moon was another myth to be ticked off of the traditional werewolf lists. Several moons were visible both day and night on Asgard and had no bearing on transformations or changes in behavior.

The two of them sat back down. Bruce watched Tony get into the lotus position, looking grumpy about it. Bruce rolled his eyes. "Okay, how about you just try and get comfortable. Lie down, sit cross-legged - however you like."

"This is good," said Tony, pulling his foot up. "This is very... zen."

"Alright. Now, close your eyes."

Tony exaggerated a breath or two, before he relaxed, letting out a slow exhale. His shoulders drooped, head tilted forward slightly.

"Keep your spine as straight as you can," said Bruce, keeping his voice calm and soothing. "Now, focus on a calming sound. Your breathing, or maybe the sound of the lake. Ebb and flow, connecting the inside with the out. Keep your breathing focused and natural."

Tony refrained from sarcastic comments, though Bruce could imagine them floating through his brain. "Whenever your mind drifts focus back on your breathing. Ignore your thoughts, like they're just insects - brush them away and focus on your breathing."

Tony took long, easy breaths. Bruce listened to them, counting them. He watched as muscles in his face and arms relaxed, watched as his fingers curled in relaxation, his lips parted. Bruce smiled. Maybe Tony was actually doing this, or at least was keeping his half-cocked schemes to himself.

Tony claimed that he did not have the rage which stewed beneath Bruce's mind at all times. Fine. But there were other ways to tempt and calm the creature.

He'd planned on doing this eventually, but since they were outside he decided to go ahead with the plan. It was time to see how well developed Tony's senses were without high emotion or provocation. Bruce suspected they were merely latent or ignored - that Tony's strictly human consciousness chose not to comprehend it.

He slipped a knife out of his pocket. It was something he'd borrowed from Barton. A balisong, because apparently neither Clint or Natasha could own a normal legal knife that could be carried around in a pocket. He opened it carefully with both hands, lacking the skill to open it with a quick flick the way Barton showed him, and closed the latch on the handle. Staring at the straight, shiny blade, he took a slow breath of his own, holding up his left hand, and pricked the pad of his index finger.

A bead of blood welled up and he fought the urge to stick his finger in his mouth, ignored the brief tremor pain, and held his hand up.

The change which came over Tony was subtle. A minute tremor made his back twitch, and his fingers tightened on his knees as his brow furrowed.

"In..." said Bruce, calmly, like he was meditating as well, "and out."

Tony swallowed, nodding his head, his eyebrows now in a hard line.

The bead of blood grew larger. Bruce stirred the air with his other hand, wafting the scent towards Tony. The other man's breath hitched and his hands bean to shake. Bruce watched, fascinated, as the engineer fought to still the quiver of his body.

After another moment he opened his eyes, which were too bright in the darkness. His eyes zeroed in on Bruce's hand and he grimaced, his tongue pressing behind his teeth, which looked sharp. "What are you doing?"

"Testing you."

"By _bleeding?"_ Tony's words hissed between his teeth, like he was afraid of opening his mouth.

"You wanted to be tested, so I'm testing you."

Tony closed his eyes, curling over himself, palms flat against the polished stone that floored the balcony. He took a deep breath. "You don't know what it's doing to me."

Bruce had a fair idea. "Tell me so I'll understand."

The blood trickled over the pad of his finger. The innocuous drop fell, hitting the stone with a sound that wasn't audible, at least to him, but Tony's eyes opened, found it unerringly. He focused on that tiny dark spot. Eyes that were too bright in the darkness now took on a silver sheen, like an animal's eyes in the dark, flickering back in the shadows.

"It... it's weird. It... fucks me up."

"How?"

"It gets close. The wolf. But not. I can't explain it. The smell sets my teeth on edge, makes me want to..."

"Want to what?"

Tony shook his head, closing his eyes. He turned and pressed his head against the railings on the deck, nudging his forehead between them, as if trying to hide himself or get away. Sweat was beading on his temple as he let out a shuddering breath.

"What does it make you want to do?"

Tony's head shook minutely. "It's horrid."

"No. It's not."

Tony let out an explosive breath. "Fuck."

"Tony, tell me."

"It makes me want to... hunt. I guess that's the word. Hunt."

"Like... prey?"

"Not like that! I don't want to... I _don't know!_ I want to run, I want to hunt, I want to... damn. _Fuck._ " He glanced back at the drop. "Alright, clean that up, now. Clean it up!"

"Tony, this is about pushing the limits."

Tony growled low under his breath, the sound growing more feral near the end. "It... I dunno. It doesn't just... fuck. It's dangerous. If someone walked in right now..."

"Why?"

Tony looked over, his eyes haunted. "It's not just that it's blood. It's y- it's.. never mind. I don't know why, but it's, I... fuck, don't make me say it, Bruce. I just don't think I could stop myself. If someone did something wrong. I'd lose it."

Bruce mopped up the drop of blood and stowed the soiled napkin in his pocket. He heard what Tony didn't say. It wasn't that _Bruce_ would do something wrong, it was someone else. More protection? He decided not to push it and put his finger in his mouth. He'd forgotten to bring anything so sensible as a band-aid.

"Now, relax again, and breathe."

"Bruce..."

"Tony, trust me," he mumbled around his finger.

With what seemed like a Herculean effort Tony pulled away from the railings, his eyes a little calmer, and he sat back down on his cushion. He closed his eyes, breathing in and out through his mouth. It took a few minutes _\- in through the nose, out through the mouth -_ before Tony seemed visibly relaxed. He slumped after awhile, letting out a long, shuddering sigh, and opened his eyes, which were glassy and tired.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Bruce was getting used to his apologies. A week ago an apology from Tony came with a ten minute speech that didn't contain anything remotely resembling the word 'sorry' and a lot of 'I's.' Now every time he showed some kind of action that demonstrated his mutation he was quick with them. Went with the territory, he supposed. Turning into a raging beast seemed to bring about a tendency to guilt.

"I should apologize for throwing that on you."

Tony shook his head. "Progress is progress. Next time you spring it on me maybe I'll be okay. Although I could do without you, y'know, hurting yourself." His eyes were anxious.

Bruce smiled. "Of course."

They got up. Rather, Bruce did, and helped up the other man, who leaned heavily on him. Tony was rarely seen to go to bed before two in the morning, but now, judging by the way he whimpered, it seemed the exertion of mental control was a bit much and he wondered how far he'd pushed the poor man. He hadn't meant for a single drop of blood to do so much to him.

He led him into the bedroom and tossed his pillow on the wide queen sized bed. In the last week this wasn't the first time Tony had crashed here. It was Bruce's room - Tony's was just across the hall - but the man's need for perpetual reassurance seemed to extend to when he slept, so Bruce didn't bother claiming there was some kind of boundary, even though Tony seemed anxious not to cross it and guilty when he did.

"Down you go," said Bruce, letting Tony fall onto the soft mattress.

Tony grunted, his brown eyes blinking dumbly in the poor light. "You staying?"

"I'm going to have some tea. I'll be back up soon," he promised.

Tony smiled, nodding. "'Kay." His eyes were shut and his jaw cracked in a yawn. "Stupid meditating. Got me all fucking exhausted."

"Right."

Tony smirked.

Bruce left him alone after shutting the balcony doors. Tony didn't move, either already asleep or very nearly there.

He made his way down a spiraling stone staircase past stained glass gothic windows. The moonlight splashed through them, casting dark coloured patterns on the walls. The upper floors were traditional with updated bathrooms, but the lower floors were somewhat modified, a mixture of old and new.

He glanced into the living room as he passed. Blue light from the big screen TV threw shadows over the room. On the screen a cowboy figurine was yelling at a space man.

"I still do not understand. Are these toys imbued with magic? My brother Loki once did something similar when we were but small children in the nursery..."

From the spacious kitchen he could still see the light from the TV as he busied himself looking through cupboards for the boxes of tea and mugs. The kettle sang and he made himself a cup of chamomile tea, listening to the sounds of the movie. He'd never seen Toy Story before, but he recognized the characters from when Tony had forced the entire team to endure a day at Disney Land "For the cap and Thor's sakes!"

Avoiding any angle that might put himself in view of the living room he let himself out into the darkness of the garden. His feet traced a familiar path which lead him past an ornate fountain and to a small bench nestled beside a wall draped with bougainvillea. In the day the tree would be bright with thousands of purple blossoms, but now it was dark and shadowy. He slipped down onto the cool bench, curling his legs up, cupping the mug of tea as he inhaled the steam. He stared at the twinkling of lights from far off villages and homes, listened to the absolute silence, and wondered what it all meant.

He thought about Tony's nuzzlings and felt a little curl of warmth in the pit of his stomach. Bruce covered his face with his hand, sucking in a breath. This was stupid, and wrong, and Tony was just messed up. There was no way it could work, and there was Pepper to consider, not just Tony's condition and how badly that kind of contact could end.

He'd have to draw a line. As soon as possible. But how come it hurt so bad?

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last 'catch up' chapter. All the work posted after this will be new :) -cheers-

Tony woke up with light streaming through a window at his eyes. He crinkled his nose, rubbing a hand over his face, as he croaked, "Jarvis, tint the windows." When nothing happened he looked up from the pillow and glared at the offending balcony and French windows and reality sunk in, like it did every other morning. He shoved his face into the feather pillow, groaning.

He rolled onto his side, blinking at the light as he looked around. He could tell by the scent he was in Bruce's room - the sheets smelled strongly of him. Ever since Bruce had pricked his finger days before he couldn't ignore his senses the way he had been. Scents and sounds were magnified. By the smell of the air through the open window he could tell it was early morning - the dew on the grass was beginning to evaporate, swirling up tiny motes with it that made everything fresh and damp. His ear twitched as he noticed the sound of breathing. That was another new thing – he’d never been able to move his ears individually before.

He turned in the bed, realizing why he was so warm and secure. Bruce, his hair tousled and face pressed against the pillow, was asleep next to him.

_Well._

Normally Tony passed out in whichever bed was closest, and Bruce took the other. It was the first time they'd shared a bed since the helicarrier. Bruce had complained of Tony sleepwalking into his room from time to time, but he'd never woken up next to him. He, or Bruce, had always found a way to return him to where he'd started. He decided not to puzzle over this interesting turn of events - Bruce had probably returned here and was too lazy to walk across the hall.

He had no idea what he was feeling about Bruce as he watched him sleep. Sure, he liked him. His opinion mattered, and he felt anxious when Bruce was away, like the stone walls were creeping in on him. But what he really felt was sort of a mystery - he didn't know what was him, and what his snarly, furry other half was.

Either way, not about to overlook a splendid opportunity, he leaned in and nuzzled Bruce behind his ear, settling his weight onto him. Bruce had undeniable physical properties that made him indispensable as a snuggling partner when Tony was feeling touchy-feely.

"Bru~uce," he sang as he settled his weight over him.

Bruce moaned, a gravelly, impatient sound as he turned his face into the bedding. His answering _"go away,"_ was muffled by his pillow.

"It's morning, sunshine. I can make you coffeeee."

"Nrgh."

"C'mon. Morning is for doing things. Work work work."

Bruce lifted his face from his pillow. The bags under his eyes were pronounced, his eyes a little bloodshot. He recognized the look. It was a mixture of sleep deprivation and research. Microscope eyes. He chuckled.

"What time is it?"

Tony pulled his hand out from under the cover. Unbeknownst to him, the limb had taken on a mind its own and had managed to press itself underneath of Bruce's shirt and against his fuzzy chest without disturbing the physicist. He reached across Bruce, knowing he was giving Bruce an eyeful of bright blue arc reactor as he leaned into him and fumbled for Bruce's watch on the bedside table. He ignored Bruce's squawk of protest, but rolled back at the not-so-gentle shove of Bruce's elbow and leaned against the headboard. Bruce's head disappeared under the cotton blanket and his pillow swelled as he worked his way beneath it.

"It is 6:15 in the AM. Ew, 6:15? That's sick. Why am I even awake?"

"I don't know," said Bruce, his tone annoyed and muddled. "You fell asleep in the study around one and I dragged you back here and resumed work. I got to bed an hour ago. Just enough time to start having a really good dream before I was rudely awoken by someone who has no right to sound as awake and cheerful as you do."

"Coffee can fix that bad mood of yours."

_"TONY."_

"Alright, alright."

He bounced out of bed and picked up his shirt off the ground as he left the room, whistling a jaunty tune. He was laughing as he dodged a pillow, which collided with the doorframe with an unimpressive _'fwump.'_ He shut the door behind himself as he stepped into the cooler hallway.

"Dude," someone said.

Tony stopped and looked over. He noticed a 'scent stream' in the air before him. It was a sort of synaesthesia he'd developed since his senses 'turned on.' He could _see_ smells, sometimes see sounds, too, but not in the way scents seemed to develop into distinctive trails. This one was a fuzzy sort of orange and tan, and it smelled like sinew, water on steel and wind in spring. The source of the trail was further up the hall.

Clint was standing there in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, holding a perspiring bottle of water in one hand. His hair was a messy disarray, and scars from a long, hard life crisscrossed and marked his skin like a map of experience. Tony could smell Romanoff on him, _(fresh flowers, snow, silk, and gunmetal)_ , and wondered if the two of them were still pretending not to fuck. Another scent, this one sort of red but not, spoke of post coital pheromones, and it made Tony smirk a little.

The engineer scratched the back of his head, conscious that he was standing bare-chested in the hall outside of Bruce's room with his shirt scrunched up in one hand. _Well, can’t stop people from making assumptions,_ he thought, wishing that the others had enough of a sense of smell to know nothing of the sort was going on.

"I thought because you're... y'know, all," Clint struggled to find the right word, waving the bottle. Tony felt a prickle of annoyance and wished Clint and the others could just spit the word werewolf out, because really, it was so much simpler than trying to be politically correct when there wasn't any kind of precedent to draw from. "Well, a little emotionally off kilter, so to speak."

That was kinder than he deserved, but it made Tony feel like a mental patient. He huffed in annoyance, narrowing his eyes. "That made no sense, Clint. Just spit it out."

"I thought your furry problem made intimacy kinda hard - like the Hulk does to Bruce."

"We're not sleeping together. Bruce is just kind of like... my wolfy swami." He didn't feel overly truthful as he spoke, but fought down the urge to say that there was more going on than there was. Bruce was Bruce. Tony was an unstable, angsty, touch-starved teenager. Nothing more. He blinked the thought away.

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Right. So all of the touching and following him around like a lost p- like a lost child don't mean anything?"

"We're not fucking," he reiterated, walking to his room, pretending that he hadn't heard Clint stutter over a dog-related word. "We're not... anything." The pain the word and idea brought was startling, but he kept his face a mask as he let himself into his room.

He took a fresh t-shirt out of his dresser, thinking about food as he pulled the shirt over his head. He was starving. He thought back to the good old days when all he needed to be happy was a bowl of Count Chocula cereal to last him seven hours, and now after a few hours sleep he needed protein... like bacon, and eggs, and meat. Licking his lips, his stomach snarling furiously, he left his room.

Clint had left, his scent disappearing down the hall. Tony took off in the opposite direction and ran down the steps two at a time. The morning had turned the stone corridors cool, and his footfalls made light, barely discernible slaps as he flew down the stairs.

He finished jogging to the kitchen and was surprised to find a started pot of coffee. As far as he knew, most members of the house didn't get up for at least another hour. He hunted up a mug, not one to look a gift horse (well, pot) in the mouth and poured himself a cup.

He drank it black, trying to decide what he was hungry for, what he'd do after he'd eat. Exercise, meditation, work on Jarvis?

There was a sound in the hall and his head snapped up. He recognized the scent, the perfectly even footfalls, only just heavy on the balls of his feet. Cap. The thought disturbed him, that he'd easily dissected each sound his teammates made. He was turning into Clint or Natasha.

"Yo," he said, with only a quick glance at the other man.

Steve was sweaty from jogging, probably in the gym. Tony nodded at Steve's answering hello as he opened the refrigerator, his stomach snarling again. He frowned as he took stock of the available food. Two heels of bread in the bag, one tiny wedge of cheese, a small amount of milk and OJ, a browning head of lettuce and a soft, blackening pepper. The only substantial bit of food came in the form of a half demolished jar of pickled herring - Thor's - and small container of leftover curry Bruce had made with a label written on with neat script saying - "Natasha's. Touch and die."

Even Tony, despite the mutation, didn't want to go toe to toe with her. It was tempting, though. As for the herring, Tony wouldn't touch it for anything. Despite the fact it had once started as a fish, vinegar was repulsive to him now, and the slimy bits of flesh looked far from appetizing. Sort of like dissections floating in formaldehyde.

"Who ate all the food?" he whined.

Steve sounded guilty. "Um, Thor and I got hungry last night. It ended in a plateful of grilled cheese sandwiches and a colossal omelette. Clint said he'd have the caretakers bring in more food."

Tony snatched up the piece of cheese and the milk and made quick work of them but they made no dent on his hunger. He was seriously contemplating Natasha's wrath as he started opening cupboards. He was used to the US. He wanted his sugary cereals, not the real oatmeal that Clint had the maids bring. Wanted something eatable _now,_ and the cupboards were essentially bare. He was getting frantic. He needed _food,_ needed _protein._ Needed it like air.

He found a box of protein bars - the Cap's, actually - hidden in a lower cupboard and pulled one out.

"Hey, those are mine!"

Tony glanced over his shoulder, glaring. "So?"

"So that's stealing."

"I'm dying here."

"Stop being dramatic. Get your hands off."

Tony growled. The sound rippled from a human-like rumble to something edging on the heels of animalistic. A faint heat that had nothing to do with the growing humidity and temperature outside shimmered on his skin. "You don't get to tell me what to do."

Rogers's eyes met his, bright blue, determined. "Then get your _paws_ off of my stuff."

 Tony's lip curled a little as he stepped forward. Challenge _challenge CHALLENGE!_ He tested the air, could smell aggression and anger, and - fear. The taste and scent cut through the air as he felt the wolf roll in the back of his mind, heard its progressing emotions. He wanted to fight, wanted to tear, wanted to _hunt-_

Tony gasped, shaking his head. Images of chasing Rogers through the shadows danced.

He dropped the protein bar, his hand waved out in a motion that was more like a spasm than reaching for support. He felt the mug of coffee, heard the scrape of the porcelain as it dragged on the tiled countertop, and heard the crash when it hit the floor. Had he been in a better mind set he might have been able to dissect each individual crack, the sound of each shard hitting the stone. As it was he had a hard time hearing anything but the ringing _(growling, roaring)_ in his ears, feeding him commands and desires he didn't want or ever wanted to know.

He gritted his teeth, glancing up at Rogers. He still felt a black kind of anger and hate well up in his chest as he shoved past. He heard rather than saw Rogers hit the wall and he didn't care, forced himself to take heavy steps forward, lurching, fighting muscles that wanted to turn around and _rip out his damn throat-_

"Where are you going?" Steve demanded.

Tony didn't even glance back. "Out of here before I kill you," he managed and ran into the hall.

He wasn’t paying attention as he ran, and found himself body checking a wooden door without noticing where it led, and stumbled into the room. He was gasping, his entire body shaking so hard his teeth rattled in his mouth.

He had a vague impression of mirrors and windows and expensive looking equipment as he looked for a place to hide. He saw another door and lunged for it, his hands scraping along the wood for purchase. Nails like claws scraped and gouged the door as he threw himself inside.

He fell through the door and into a cooler space beyond. He was going to change, he could feel it, in every cell of his body, as the wolf ripped and snarled inside of his skull.

_I don’t want to please no ohgodpleaseno!_

He saw a huge shape appear out of the gloom and before he could think he felt a snarl rip from his throat and he threw himself at it, dragging his claws through its skin, and he sank his teeth into it. At first his mind told him how sweet, and wet and hot it would be when it succumbed to him, but then he tasted silicon and leather, smelled dirt, and retched as the reality of what he was doing struck, and the wolf retreated.

The shaking eased, his body his own, as he hit the wall in the dark space and fell over.

`~+0+~`

Ross didn’t know how long he’d been under, just that the time was full of pain and light, and a fuzziness which blurred the edges of everything that had no right to be sharp and biting as his entire body writhed to get away. Breaths burned and bubbled like acid through a straw accompanied with a vague drumming in his ears that was probably his pulse.

It felt like years since he'd been on his feet and it was disorientating when he opened his eyes and found his head clear. He was in a military room hospital, similar to the one where they converted Blonsky and started him on his dangerous path into the creature he was now. He could remember his last clear-headed moments when he was losing everything – _again –_ and Rhodes, tall and silver with merciless white eyes. He remembered the pain in his chest lasting a second, burning moment and sucking in a breath of air that felt like it was fire before everything had gone black.

He sat up in his gurney, covered with the flimsy, spotted material it seemed every hospital supplier in the world made their gowns with. His left arm was attached to an IV drip, probably saline, and his right was heavily bandaged.

“Doctor,” he rasped, and looked around for water. He was parched, and had to work hard to get enough saliva on his tongue to speak. “Doctor!”

His 2IC, Major Sparr, and a faceless military doctor in green scrubs came through the door. He laboured under an extensive physical while Sparr updated him on what had happened since Rhodes had intercepted them in transit for the Bahamas facility.

"So far they've dropped off of the radar, sir, and the Secretary of Defense is refusing to release Lt. Col. James Rhodes for questioning, because we were acting outside of the US Government in the name of the WSC."

Ross grunted, staring at the doctor as they took a few vials of his blood. "Anything on where Stark and Banner might be?"

"No sir. We've got Rhodes under surveillance but he hasn't made contact with Stark that we've seen."

"Keep an eye on him. It might have been a bluff."

He got dressed, wincing a little. His forearm hurt from where they'd used a dialysis machine to flush the toxins out of his system, his head still throbbed, and his chest ached where, according to the doctor, his lung had been punctured and a rib cracked by the tranquilizer dart. War Machine had scored a lucky hit, and that particular dart had been designed for Banner after transformation. Ross was lucky to be alive and without brain damage.

With more force of will than anything else he walked across the room so he could go to debriefing. He'd been out for a few weeks, and he felt like he'd rather be out resting somewhere for six, maybe eight or more, but duty called. At least the doctor had taped his chest tightly, to the point he could walk without _much_ pain.

He settled himself into his leather chair in the war room with a little sigh. Major Sparr left to send a message for the council to convene. Ross wondered what was coming. He'd been in a cargo plane with escorts, yes, but the world had seen what Tony Stark was capable of, how could anyone expect much different from one of his other creations?

Sparr entered the room. "The Council will be ready to convene shortly, sir. I'd also like to report that tests using the tissue from the alien which Banner neutralized are undergoing. Even though we lost most of Tony Stark's data in the attack by Lt. Col. Rhodes, a few active blood samples remained intact."

"And?" Ross asked, hoping for some good kind of news.

"Testing is underway. Dr. Balashov says he sees great potential with the virus."

Ross grunted, making a mental note to learn what he could from Balashov. Without his daughter or Banner, he'd grappled for anyone who had an iota of the understanding of gamma radiation and cellular mutation they had, and Balashov had come up in his searches. He'd headhunted him from the Russian military logistics division and had had him working on the Hulk and Blonsky ever since.

"Does he see any potential applications, or a way to use it to our advantage?"

"He hasn't reported any substantial findings yet, sir."

Ross nodded.

There was a beeping sound and Ross straightened in his chair as his viewing screens lit up, revealing the mysterious Council which displayed the true authority behind the most powerful countries in the world. Ross had on his best poker face, and was ignoring the sharp, stabbing pains in his chest every time he shifted.

"Councilmen," he said, keep his tone measured and careful. He'd failed in a big way and these were powerful people. But if they wanted him dead they would have killed him with a simple injection while he slept.

"Hello, General," said one of them. Ross looked over. "We've received statements from witnesses from the attack by one Lt. Col. James Rhodes, and we accede to the fact that the situation was beyond your control."

This was good. More than Ross hoped for.

"We also would like you to understand that you're running out of second chances where Banner and Stark are concerned."

Ross swallowed. "I'll be assembling a team to track them immediately."

"Not necessary. We've already taken steps to assemble a team for you."

Ross frowned. "And?"

"We've gathered a wide variety of soldiers well practiced in recon missions, as well as safe extraction of dangerous targets. These are from both SHIELD, and from other various governments and military agencies. We'll be forwarding their files to you."

Ross felt his neck tighten in anger. "This is my mission, I pick my men-"

"No, Ross," interrupted the only female on the council. "You may over-see it, you may have input, but every chance you need to try again takes control of the situation away from you."

Ross clenched his jaw. "Very well."

"We've also found a very well informed volunteer from SHIELD. They have prior knowledge and excellent intelligence on the Avengers Initiative. You'll be utilizing them as both consultant and leader of recon missions."

A picture appeared on the screen. Ross recognized the face, and the name. He was a little surprised at the choice and the circumstances surrounding it. By all rights the name shouldn't be up on the screen before him, but stranger things, defections among them, had been seen in his time since he began to pursue the monster inside of Banner.

"You're certain we can trust them?" he asked, still staring at the photo. Their deceptively mild eyes stared right back.

"You can, if you like," said a voice from the door.

Ross swiveled around to look at the newcomer. "And defecting from SHIELD to hunt down the Avengers Initiative... how do I know Fury doesn't have you here under command?"

"If you've read my file you'll know I haven't been working for Fury for some time now, General Ross. And, if it's alright, my name while working here will be Agent Reid. We don't want knowledge of where I'm working slipping into the wrong hands from an overheard conversation. Loose tongues, you know, not that it's any problem of mine." Reid slid into one of the leather chairs around the desk, hands full of several files, expression detached and professional. "Now, if we're going to locate Banner and Stark, we've got to draw up a plan of attack. Lucky you, I've drawn up one or two plans while you've been recovering." The agent tossed down a file folder onto the table top.

Ross pulled the manila file towards him and glanced up at the WSC, who had silently watched the exchange between him and the newcomer. "You have your orders, Ross. Find Banner and Stark, no matter what the cost."

The screens blanked out, leaving Ross with the reports before him on the desk, and his new team member who may or may not be trustworthy.

"Let's see, then," he said, like his assent meant something, and flipped it open, skimming over plans of attack.

"From what we know, Stark will be unable to use or access any of his possessions, Banner, of course, has nothing, Rogers is out of his time-line, and Thor is only visiting. The best option I believe we have is to focus on Barton and Romanoff and comb through their contacts and lists of known properties and monitor all assets connected to them. It might be a big world, General, but there's only so many places they can hide."

Ross stopped on a picture of Tony's demon, the hulking form of the wolf, while he let the words roll over him. Maybe this new-comer would be of some help.

"Let's get on it, then."

`~+0+~`

Tony eased himself from his hiding spot. He didn't know how long he'd sat in darkness of the closet with his knees pressed into his temples and arms curled around his legs, but it was long enough for the sun to climb higher in the sky, making the sunbeams shorter in the dusky room beyond.

He was hiding away in an equipment cupboard. Around him in the gloom were mats, a disused punching bag, a few weights. He was in the gym, which was quiet, still smelled a little like Rogers and sweat and metal.

Some time ago the shaking had stopped, leaving him feeling sweaty and tired, and now all the urges and demands in his head seemed to go too. Finally trusting himself, he loosened his tight muscles, stretching out his contorted limbs. He glanced at the spare punching bag and thought about how he'd have a job fixing it with duct tape, not that it would save anything. He'd only just finished spitting out sand and digging it out from under his fingernails.

Tony groaned as a fresh wave of heat rolled over his body, remembering the _in-between_ after running from Cap and finding himself in the darkness needing to fight. The leather hadn't stood up to him when he'd turned his anger on it, and now the bag was 'bleeding' grains of silicon onto the floor. He pretended not to like the memory of the _resistance_ the leather had given his nails ( _claws)_ or to his teeth, needing to work his jaw against the unyielding surface.

 _Tony, the wolf is one thing, and you are human, so stop blurring the two,_ he reprimanded himself, and stole out of the closet and into the small gym.

The gym was smallish, for a group of superheroes. Big enough for a treadmill, cross trainer, weight set, and a few other things Tony wasn't overly familiar with. The biggest area in the room was the collection of mats the others used for sparring. He'd never had much use for gyms, himself. He liked to tell everyone that would listen he was just _naturally_ that sexy. Tony liked boxing with Happy, and had a great set up at home in Malibu, but that was all it was - a set up. More for Pepper than him, truth be told.

The thought of Pepper was like a burst of acid in his stomach. He hadn't had the opportunity to ask Jarvis how many days it was until she was in Milan. Then she'd be there for two days at some stupid annual fashion convention he'd never before cared about.

Security would be tight. Maybe she'd be getting tailed, both by SHIELD and by Ross. He could just get in by showing his face, smiling for the cameras, and swaggering in like he owned the place (he was a part owner, in fact, of the company putting it on). But then he'd be kidnapped, thrown in the back of some unmarked panel truck, and would disappear.

 _Fugitive, remember?_ he thought, and grimaced.

"Whatever," he said. He realized he was looking out of the wide bay windows and wondered when he'd walked over. The gym was at the rear of the house. He'd never really paid much attention to the lay of the villa and surrounding property before, but he glanced around. The property sat against the lake with its own little dock, and a high stone fence surrounded the grounds, running straight up to the trees. At the trees there was an old iron gate, which had been left open and forgotten some years ago. A thick growth of ivy held the gates open, and beyond it a disused and overgrown path wound its way up to the mountains beyond.

He thought about maybe going for a jog, but Bruce warned him not to unsupervised. _No adrenaline._ _Especially not now,_ thought Tony, so close on the heels of his last loss of control. Licking dry lips he stared at the rippling green leaves of the deciduous trees beyond. He wondered what the breeze which tickled the branches would smell like, the lushness of the grass, the rich, deep loam of the earth. He found himself leaning into the glass, staring at the trees beyond half mesmerized.

He'd never liked the outdoors before, beyond occasionally skiing or forcing himself into some shit hunting party when etiquette or an arms deal with the government demanded it, but that had been long ago. He couldn't remember the last time he'd stepped beneath the green treetops, losing himself in a gentle, sweet smelling haze of decaying leaves and pine needles and the lush explosion of new buds.

He wondered what the animals would smell like. Wondered how it would sound to hear their heavy, beating hearts, their quick pants making delicate, fur covered flanks ripple as their eyes scanned for danger. Wondered how fast they would run as he followed - _oh yes, and couldn't he feel his muscles bunching, tense, needing to spring into action -_ and then as he caught up to them. What would _their_ resistance be to his claws and jaws, compared to that punching bag?

_Shiiik!_

He jumped a little and looked down. Hands which had been restlessly pawing at the stone walls and masonry just for the feeling of rough texture on his skin had changed. The skin had darkened just a touch, and his nails had grown into something long and cruel looking.

Tony frowned. His hands felt powerful, but the sight of even a partial transformation without the accompanying heat and anger...

_What does that even mean?_

His mouth was dry. The urge to run in the forest, to find a deer or rabbit or _something_ hadn't abated. He glanced first at the tempting woods, then at the other punching bag, red and hanging from the ceiling. Wondered how deep his claws would go, wondered -

"Tony Stark?"

The sound was sudden, rumbling, loud and made him jump. He hid his hand behind his back as he turned to look at Thor, dressed in casual civilian clothes and leaning through the partially ajar door. However much time had passed since he'd run away from Rogers, it had been enough for Thor to wake up from a mead induced sleep, get dressed and feel the need to come find him. Maybe they'd drawn straws to see who had to peek in at the distressed potential monster and assess the situation, or maybe they'd just picked Thor because he was the safest option.

"Hey, Prince Charming," said Tony, wondering what his eyes might look like.

Thor did not comment on the name as he stepped into the room, bringing a commanding presence with him. Tony felt a sort of grudging acquiescence to the man. He figured it had something to do with the way Thor had soundly thrashed him. Mjolnir wasn't in sight, so at least the others didn't think Tony was an immediate danger.

"Is everything alright? The Captain informed me that you and he quarreled this morning and you were on the verge of succumbing to the _Ulfhedinn_ curse."

"Really, just say werewolf," Tony muttered. He looked over his shoulder, relieved to see his hand had returned to its normal, regular shade of pink, bag lady nails long gone.

Thor raised an eyebrow. "I understand how you are changing, Tony. Often it is very difficult for one of your kind to interact with others."

Tony wondered about that. Despite planning on talking about 'his kind' with Thor he'd never gotten around to it, mostly because of Thor and Rogers being BFF's and he really didn't like being in close proximity with Captain Jerkwad. It had the potential for a scuffle of the deadly kind.

He looked back out the window. Whatever pull the forest had had a moment ago was lost.

"So?" he asked, turning his back to the window and sitting on the stone window ledge, "what's up?"

Thor raised an eyebrow. He glanced at the roof once before it dawned on him the question wasn't literal and he smiled. Short of painfully straight forward questions 'Midgardian Slang' always threw him for a short loop no matter how many times it had been said to him.

"Not much is _up,_ as it were," said Thor. "The others felt you needed as much time as you could take, with Dr. Banner still asleep in his quarters. I felt that perhaps you might need someone to speak to."

"That's right, always looking for a shoulder to cry on," said Tony, trying not to sound bitter. He walked away and over to the other punching bag, considering hitting it.

"I do not mean that you are weak," said Thor, following him. "I mean only that as I have actually met other's like yourself, and have greater knowledge of your kind, that perhaps I might be of help.

Tony stopped, turning to look at him. "You've _met_ other werewolves? Like on Asgard? I thought Bruce said they were all banished."

Thor shook his head. "Many of them where. Two of their pack, which did not entirely embrace the 'werewolf' as you called it, became prominent members of Asgardian society. One was even accepted into the warriors of the realm, mated with an Asgardian female, and granted immortality from the Allfather. It was he that I sought out to learn more of your kind, in relation to your situation."

"So they're not all evil?" News to Tony. Anything that wanted to turn into a giant snarling beast of death over a fucking morsel of food seemed evil to him.

"No, they are not. Merely susceptible to the instincts which rule Asgardian and Midgardian's alike."

"But you banished them anyway."

Thor sighed. "Most... most of them thought they were greater than those around them and yes, they were what you would consider evil. They wished to embrace the darkness, regardless of who they hurt."

Tony paused, pushing on the punching bag. "So several tried to, um, _mate_ with Asgardians?"

"They attempted to create pair bonds, yes. _Ulfhedinn_ were naturally attracted to the strength of the Asgardians, and some Asgardians were attracted to their primal ways and unshakable sense of loyalty. Sometimes, with a more experienced _Ulfhedinn,_ the bonding would work."

Tony shifted. "Huh."

"How is your relationship with Dr. Banner progressing?"

Tony turned around. "Wait, _what?_ Why do people keep asking me that?"

Thor looked a little taken aback. "I apologize if I have offended you. I merely thought that you had chosen Dr. Banner as your alpha."

"Al..pha?" Tony was sure one of his eyebrows had merged with his hairline.

"Your leader. The one you look up to, follow commands from, if you will."

That made a disturbing amount of sense. His need for assurance from Bruce, to be around him, the desire to _follow_ and not lead. "I suppose," he said slowly, working various scenarios through his mind and seeing how they matched up to the new terminology. As loathe as he was to say he was submissive to anyone, it seemed it couldn't be avoided with Bruce. And the strangest part was _he didn't mind._ He was _happy_ to think that way, it caused a warm bubble of pleasure to think of Bruce looking after him. Anyone else try it with him though, and - he shook his head, ignoring the small surge of anger.

Thor nodded. "I did not mean to imply that you were bedfellows. It is simply how the _Ulfhedinn -_ werewolves - interact with each other."

"Like a pack."

"Yes," said Thor. "Although, like those with the Asgardians, werewolves would bond with one another as well. I thought that perhaps the same was happening with you and Dr. Banner."

Tony made a face, feeling a blush creeping up over his cheeks. _"We're not sleeping together."_

At that point Clint must have decided Thor was taking too long, and, in the absence of screams of pain and rage, wasn’t being mauled. He popped his head in through the door, leaning against the doorjamb as one arm dangled down, a piece of bacon in his fingers. "Yo! Mr. Paws, Goldilocks! Food's on!"

"Mr... Paws?"

Clint just grinned as he shoved the bacon in his mouth. "Well, it _could_ have been Fido... maybe Marmaduke... Balto, perhaps?"

Tony felt a growl building in his throat as he stalked forward.

Clint gave him one wide-eyed look of horror before he bolted out of the gym, laughing hysterically as he ran down the hall.

"It would not be wise to kill the Hawk," said Thor sagely as he followed Tony. "As he is responsible for bringing the food and providing this beautiful home."

"Right," said Tony through clenched teeth. He was mentally calculating the number of horrible things he could do to Clint in the next day or so that would make up for what he was sure was going to be his new nickname.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally posting new work! XD Well, hope you guys like it. Angst incoming, mingled with silly (extremely silly) humor that made me laugh, anyway. Hope it's good

Tony twisted his hand in his hair, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to visualize the problem. "Run diagnostics on the analytic subroutine," he said, ghosting his fingers over towards a rolling screen of code.

An imitation of Jarvis's voice spoke, sounding a bit weak and tinny to the 'true' voice which ran his home in Malibu, and Stark Tower. It also sounded pissy, something that was starting to tick Tony off. _"There appears to be an error in my diagnostic algorithms. The processing coding is incomplete. I cannot begin debugging."_

Tony slammed his hand on the table. "The hell you can't! I've rewritten that code a hundred times since... _fuck."_

_"Might I suggest another try, sir? If you think you can manage, sir."_

Tony felt like smashing the computer back into its base components. The 'mini-Jarvis' system rigged into the computer Clint had managed to procure from his personal belongings on the helicarrier was limited and a little glitchy because it was cut off from the Stark Industries servers. Low memory, basic functions, and completely cut off from self upgrading and repair software, leaving Tony to do it the old fashioned way. Which wasn't so bad, when Jarvis hadn't decided to turn into a bitchy twelve year old girl.

"I'm going to melt you down and turn you into modern art, you pathetic pile of scrap!" he yelled, kicking the table. He was rewarded with a stubbed toe and no change to his computer. Fuming, he rubbed his foot while he typed furiously. "Jarvis, bring up the coding for the diagnostic algorithms. I've got a feeling your _error_ that's causing you to PMS right now is in file zeta gamma."

"What about gamma?" asked Bruce from the door.

Tony turned to look, still rubbing his toe. Bruce was holding a mock-up of a repaired tablet from Tony's things. "A file. Jarvis forgot to take his Midol."

Bruce chuckled, closing the door behind him. "Ah. Speaking of gamma, though," he waved the little tablet. "I've fixed the sampling port. Hand."

Tony held his hand out, watching Bruce as he gently took his index finger (Tony fought a shiver brought on from Bruce's warm fingers on his). There was a spike of pain from the sampling port, and he turned back to Jarvis, feigning disinterest as he listened to the tablet beep. It would be the first look at his radiation levels since the carrier.

"Radiation levels have dropped by 7.84 percent," said Bruce. "Current pattern reads a .56 percent drop per day. You should be radiation free in about six months."

Tony breathed a small sigh of relief. "Thank god."

Bruce slid in next to him. "You never struck me as a 'higher power' sorta guy."

"I'm allowed to use the word if I want. How about 'Thank Thor,' or 'Praise to the Allfather?" he asked.

Bruce grinned. "Maybe. After all, the fourth day of the week is Thursday for a reason. Thank Thor for that."

Tony fiddled with the touch screen. "Mm."

Jarvis beeped. _"Sir, as per your request, there are three days until Milan."_

Tony felt his ears heating up, knowing Bruce would be frowning, wondering what the hell he could mean with that.

"Thanks, Jarvis," Tony muttered. "Mute."

Bruce didn't ask, and Tony didn't feel like offering any explanation. Three days to figure out how to sneak out of the isolated villa, make it to the main land, and _then_ find some way to sneak into the big fashion show he was technically required to go to every year. He wasn't stupid, he had a feeling that Pepper was being tailed, probably by both SHIELD and the WSC. He rubbed his face. He might be able to say good-bye to her, properly, but he'd never make it out of the building. He'd be kidnapped and slapped into an unmarked panel van, sedated, and no one would ever see or hear from him again. It was unbelievably stupid to go.

But he had to try.

There was a squeak of wheels as Bruce pushed away from the desk. Tony watched out of the corner of his eye as Bruce sank into the couch at the far end of the room. There was a thin crease between his eyebrows, and Tony doubted it was being caused by the data.

He glanced back at the crap computer he had to work with and glared at it. Ever since his last contact with Pepper he'd been forced to sever all the ties to himself, allowing only minimal access to his own voice encoded systems for important information, and even those he could only do in secret, because if the other's ever caught him he'd be a dead man. But it was extremely frustrating, like downgrading to a shitty public school computer lab. Some of his processors were so advanced it made the highest level consumer grade products look like a fifty cent calculator.

Resisting the urge to yell at Jarvis again, he leaned back. At some point he'd get the DNA analyzer up and running, and then he and Bruce could figure out an antiviral that might work. Until then he'd live with preteen Jarvis.

He snapped the computer screen shut and got up, walking over to Bruce like he was on auto pilot. Bruce didn't look up, but Tony had the feeling he was being observed anyway. He fell down onto the leather sofa, kicking his feet high. Once he'd landed he wormed his way backwards until his head was on Bruce's leg, and he twisted, smiled at him, then nestled his head on Bruce's leg. He purred inwardly as Bruce's hand rested lightly on his hair.

"So, what's in Milan?" asked Bruce, his voice soft.

"I would have had to be there if things hadn't gone all," he waved his hand, "awry."

"Mm."

Should've known Bruce would think there's more than that. He tried to ignore where he was and Bruce's comfy lap, thinking maybe some meditation might help the issue with Jarvis, when Bruce's hand settled more firmly on his neck, warm thick fingers curving around his jaw, and he sighed, feeling anxious. He didn't like hiding things, not from Bruce.

"Tell me, Tony," said Bruce.

Unable to resist a direct order, he rolled onto his back again. Bruce had set the tablet aside. Tony squirmed inwardly for a moment, then shifted and sat up, resting his weight on his heels on the couch as he looked up at Bruce.

"Pepper's there," he said, licking his lips. "Or, she will be, anyway."

Bruce rubbed his face. "Tony, no."

"Bruce," Tony grasped his hand, "please, I need to see her again."

Bruce looked a little hurt but didn't say anything.

"I need to say good-bye, Bruce. I need to make things _right_ between us. And I told her I'd find some way to see her last time I spoke, but she was still so _angry,_ and-"

"Told her you'd find a - Tony, the last time you spoke to her we were leaving for a mission for SHIELD. Why would she have needed any reassurance then?"

Tony looked away. "I called her."

"You - _how?"_

Tony cringed at the anger in Bruce's voice. "It was completely safe! I have a - oh hell," he said, and stood up. He walked over to the computer and entered a code. An access panel opened, and he pulled out the spare StarkTech phone, which he had wired into Jarvis to help him run smoother. He pulled the cables off of it and held it up. "I had a phone hidden in my room in the hellicarrier, just in case I ever got separated from it."

"You - you _phoned her?_ How stupid are you, Tony? That's one of the first things they'll track-"

"It's untraceable!" he said, standing, holding his hands out. "My systems can't be traced. If they could, we'd have been found by now. Any phone call automatically makes the call from about fifty different towns and cities around the globe, and is triple encrypted."

"You were being an damn idiot. The whole _point_ of this was to cut you off to keep you safe, and you're throwing that away! What were you _thinking?_ "

Tony slumped under his words, fell to his knees. Bruce was mad, Bruce hated him, he was _bad..._

He felt hands on his shoulders and refused to look up, trying to suck air through a windpipe that felt like it was too small. He was crushed, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so fucking low, and if Bruce was saying this it was true...

His body was jerked up and he was pulled into Bruce's chest. The physicist's arms were tight about his shoulders, and he felt Bruce's breath in his hair. "Tony, I'm sorry. Come back."

 _Back where?_ he wondered, and felt a low tremor in his muscles. _Am I getting close?_ He wasn't sure, wasn't sure about anything, really, and he didn't much care. Bruce hated him. What point was there to care?

"I am sorry," said Bruce, "and I'm not mad at you," his words were soft into Tony's hair, and he felt the stress slipping away, a reassurance taking its place, making him feel loved, warm. "Just promise you won't do anything so stupid like that again."

"I promise," he said, and Bruce let him go.

Tony looked up, met Bruce's repentant eyes, and ducked his head. "I just... I need to say good-bye. Properly. I might never see her again."

"Never is a long time," said Bruce, ruffling his hair.

Tony hummed a little, tilting his head. "You've always accepted you'd never see Elizabeth Ross again. Didn't you... want to see her, one last time?"

The ruffling stopped, and Tony looked up. Bruce was frowning, looking away. "Betty and I were different. We were engaged, our relationship wasn't... strained."

"Pepper's been with me for almost my entire career," said Tony stubbornly. "Maybe it wasn't _all_ romantic, but she's one of my best friends. I can't say that about many people."

"Going into Milan when Pepper's probably under surveillance would be more risky than you can imagine," he said. Tony's heart picked up. Maybe he wasn't getting completely shut down here, and he got ready to beg and schmooze as much as necessary to get his way.

"We can get the others to help. The assassin's know how to blend in. I can hack into her records, change one of her lunch dates around, and we'll... I dunno, manipulate her into going where we need her to. Then we'll met up, talk, and hustle our asses back out here."

"Tony..."

 _"Please,"_ he said, so desperately his voice cracked. "Bruce, I've got to see her."

Bruce groaned. "Alright, fine. I can see that if you don't hear what you want you're going to go ahead and do it anyway. Let's consult Clint or Natasha. They'll at least have some kind of idea what it'll be like trying to get close to Pepper. Maybe they'll convince you how _utterly insane_ it is."

`~+0+~`

"No way," said Clint, shaking his head. "Are you insane?"

The beacon of hope Tony had felt when Bruce had agreed to take the argument to the Deadly Assassin's went out. He tried not to look at Bruce's "I warned you," look as he paced a moment, trying to think of some counter point in order to sway Legolas to his point of view.

Before Tony could open his mouth, Clint held up his hand. "We can't risk being seen, Tony. Pepper's going to be tailed by both SHIELD and by Ross's WSC goons. if we're spotted by either it will be reported, and then _we'll_ be tailed." He looked over at Bruce. "You of all people should know better than to let him entertain that kind of thinking."

Bruce shrugged. "I figured if anyone could get us in and out of there without being marked, it'd be you or Romanoff. I just figured if it really _was_ impossible, you'd tell Tony, so I wouldn't have to tie him to the bed for two days waiting for Pepper to leave Milan again."

Tony smothered a grin. He was supposed to be arguing his case, not imagining what Bruce would - _No._ _It's not like that between us!_ He silently cursed his traitorous feelings, shifting his weight uncomfortably, trying to get back into the game.

"It would be a miracle if we didn't get made," said Clint. "A _miracle."_

Tony huffed in frustration. “Clint, I have to do it right. I can’t just call her on my phone and let that be that. I have to see her.”

He tried not to think about the last time he’d seen her physically. Livid, her face red and angry, before she’d slipped into utter disdain, her eyes had turned to ice, and she'd shut her bedroom door in his face. It wouldn't be so hard to move on, maybe take their advice, if it hadn't been _completely_ his fault Pepper had been so mad at him.

 “Tony, I think in this case she’ll understand.”

Tony paced agitatedly, trying to ignore the rising urge to _make_ Clint see his point of view, with force if needed. It was his former mate, he had to go to her, to let her know, he – an idea occurred to him, and he turned to Clint, who at once looked wary with his abrupt change of posture. Tony could smell the slight edge of anxiety.

“If Natasha was out there, and you could never see her again, what would you do?”

Clint narrowed his eyes. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s plenty fucking fair! Put yourself in my position. It almost happened to you, remember? What would you do?”

Clint sighed, hanging his head a little. “I’d do everything I could to get to her, at least once.”

“Right. And right now, everything _I_ can do won’t cut it. I’m not trained to blend in. Not like you. So everything I can do involves getting someone who can help. Part of running a company means knowing when you can do something efficiently, and knowing if you should hire someone who can do it more efficiently than you.”

“So you need me to get you in, because you’d be shit at it?”

Tony felt the corner of his mouth tug up in a smile. “You know I’d never make it back, Clint.”

"Not alone, no," said Clint, sighing. "Maybe you might squeak by with just Bruce, but they're looking for both of you. And technology is crazy nowadays, they'll be scanning CCTV cameras looking for point matches in your facial structures, and have top agents there. We're talking like maybe Sitwell or Hill. If they're serious about finding you any chance you might show up will be monitored so closely it's not even funny."

"I think it won't be that bad," said Bruce, who was lounging on a leather chair by a window. "Something tells me that, with you two looking after us, they won't think Tony's insane enough to try something like this. At the very least they won't be using precious funding to scan every CCTV camera there. I can't imagine what it must have cost SHIELD to try and use that technology for Loki, and he was an international security threat and mass murderer."

"True," said Clint, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was never much good at these kinds of operations. My thing is sneak in, kill, sneak out. Natasha's better. Hill's the best. So was Coulson, but..."

Tony tried not to let his mind drift to the funeral. SHIELD hadn’t released the body for so long, and even then it was only ashes. “So how do we do this? Do we tell everyone, or just keep it to the three of us?"

"We should let Natasha in on it. And the other two, but maybe not have them join us. They're too damn big, they'll be seen. And we're going to have to get you in disguise, otherwise this will be completely impossible. It's a fashion event, you said?" Tony nodded. "How do you feel about drag?"

"Hell with a capital NO," said Tony, ignoring the way Bruce burst into a fit of helpless laughter. "My manly legs do _not_ go into stockings or stilettos."

Clint grinned. "Well, it's drag or playing gay."

"Your arms are too big for dressing drag," said someone from the hall.

The three of them jumped, looking guiltily at the door. Natasha was leaning in, wearing a wry smile as she rested her weight against the door jam, arms crossed. Tony wondered how she'd managed to materialize without being noticed. It was like she was a ghost sometimes.

"Well," she continued, walking into the room, "unless you dress up as Hilga Schmidt, professional heavy weight again."

"Please tell me you have pictures of this," said Tony.

Clint grinned. "I always hate playing Hilga because she can grow a better beard than me."

Natasha picked up a pillow and buffeted him about the ears before she walked past Bruce and slid into the window seat. "Tony will need to hide his arc reactor if he doesn't want to give us all away, so he should be dressed modestly. Tony can be camera man, I'll set myself up in my modelling persona Chloe Brickston,  Bruce can be my PA, and you can be my driver, Clint. No need for Hilga."

"You sure?" he waggled his eyebrows, and laughed as Tony mimed puking into a vase.

"I'm sure," she grinned. "And I like my women with less hair on their arms, anyway."

Tony perked right up. "The key thing I got out of that was that you like women. Again, are there pictures?"

"Tony," said Bruce in the 'warning tone.' Tony sighed, thinking about how he never got to have any fun, and sat down next to Bruce's chair.

Clint looked thoughtful now. "Well, I can hack the lists and get us an invite through Stark Industries and prepare some business cards."

"I was thinking more along the lines of making sure Pepper's lunch date on one of the days mysteriously cancels, and we fill it for them. That way we won't be trying to get into one of the expo centre's to hunt her down," said Tony.

"That's not a half bad plan," said Natasha. "Clint can hack Pepper's PA's records and switch locations. When she and Happy show up at the new place, we'll be waiting."

Clint nodded. "Sounds good. And you can help Tony get all gayed up."

Bruce snickered, but Tony sat up straighter. "Woah woah woah, as a camera man, why do I have to be gay?" he demanded, crossing his arms. Budding feelings for a certain physicist notwithstanding, Tony was never discriminate about his bed partners, though he preferred women. If there was one thing he always hated, it was a label.

“Because we have to hide you,” said Natasha, rising to her feet in a quick, fluid motion. “I imagine that Ross won’t count on us, he’ll assume you’re going to be your big-shot billionaire self, that you’re not going to want this kind of help. He’ll be looking for something that keeps you keyed into an alpha male role, not a mile out of the closet submissive type.”

Tony felt a twinge of annoyance. “I doubt that.”

“I don’t. I just hope you’re not too partial to the goatee – it’s too iconic. You’re going to look so cute when I’m done with you.”

Tony didn’t trust her smile of pleasure. He bet that the snake who offered the apple had the same kind of look on his face.

`~+0+~`

Clint was doing his best not to laugh as he watched the motley assortment of Avengers in the speed boat.

They were gliding over Lake Como for the marina. The boat bounced with each little wave from the gusty day, sending sprays of fresh water into the air and churning the crystal blue surface of the water with their wake.

The rest of the team was now on board with the plan. Rogers, at first, had been just as dubious as Bruce and Clint had been when they'd told them the plan, and Thor was completely at ease with the situation, as he usually was. He was even driving. After a brief lesson on how to work the controls, Thor had eagerly taken the helm and was grinning like an idiot, his golden hair rippling in the breeze. This was fine with Clint - it was taking everything he had not to laugh.

Tony was alternating between looking seasick and glaring at Rogers, who was also staring at him whenever he thought Tony wasn't looking. When Tony had come out of Natasha's room sculpted into a new man pretty much everyone couldn't stop staring at him, except Thor, who couldn't care less.

"Keep laughing, Spangles, and you're going in the drink," Tony warned, gripping the side of the boat, head pressed against the cool hull. Bruce rubbed his back, looking sorry for him, and Tony groaned.

"I'm not laughing. I've got an itchy throat," said the Cap, coughing into his hand.

"Bull fucking _shit,"_ croaked the engineer.

Tony looked nearly twenty years younger. His hair was now a very light brunette, and his once brown eyes were baby-blue. Natasha had even applied some make-up for a special touch. Add in the trendy clothes Nat had gone specially into town for and Tony made the boys from _Queer Eye for the Straight Guy_ look hetero. Clint had to admit, though, Tony looked damn fucking strange without the goatee, and if they'd just met on the street he'd never have been able to tell they were Tony Stark, world famous playboy and large and in charge alpha male.

"Why do you keep _staring?"_ Tony demanded, looking over his shoulder at Rogers. With the coloured contacts his eyes did little more than sparkle slightly with the flash of anger. Clint had to stuff his hand in his mouth to keep from laughing harder, it was too perfect.

"It just seems strange for a Stark to look so... feminine."

"Well, Stark is basically the most heterosexual man on the planet," said Clint, smirking. "Even when his picture with that male Hilfiger model made it into _Entertainment Weekly's_ annual 'sexiest kiss."

"That's not true, is it?" said Rogers, looking a little alarmed.

"Men kiss men, get over it," said Tony in a grumbling tone. "And that guy was awful, by the way. I regretted making out with him from the get go. He practically _drooled_ and tasted like cheap cigar ash. And I _know_ cigar ash."

Cap made a sound that sounded something like a gag of disgust covered by a hasty cough. Clint smothered his face in his arm.

"Is it not acceptable in your society for two men to copulate?" asked Thor.

 _"I am going to die, excuse me,"_ said Clint, working his way to the back of the boat. Tony muttered some half-assed attempt at a comeback, and even Bruce was chuckling. Natasha was trying not to smile, taking the moral high ground, and said something about children in hard italics.

Back by the motor it was easier to breathe, since he couldn't hear the others. He was lucky. All he had to wear was plain black suit, a pair of wrap around shades, and his bowler hat. Natasha had clucked her tongue, but since she was impersonating a model who was supposed to be from London Clint jumped at the opportunity to sport his favourite hat.

Bruce got off pretty lucky too. He'd dressed himself nicely in dress pants, a sweater vest, and a maroon dress shirt, so he didn't look much more than preppy. He'd also cut his hair very short and got rid of the gray and the perpetual five o'clock shadow, making him look about ten years younger. Judging by the way Tony had kept eye fucking him, Stark approved, though he was still apparently in denial.

And Natasha... Clint glanced over at Natasha, who was now a gorgeous blonde wearing a painted on dress, a thin spring jacket, and fuck-me heels. He couldn't wait to get her back to the villa for some time alone, he so rarely got her in stilettos.

"So, everyone cool with the plan?" he asked for the thousandth time in the last three days, when he trusted himself to return to the front of the boat.

"Thor and I guard the boat," said Rogers, "and keep on the look-out for any suspicious personnel."

Tony opened his mouth to speak, but he made an _urp_ sound and leaned over the side. Bruce patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. "What Tony means is, we'll follow along like good little boys and do as we're told."

"Right. I drive, you two be inconspicuous in the back seat and sit with Tasha. We're heading to a private room in _Cafe Rosa,_ where we'll be meeting with Pepper. So far she thinks she's meeting up with Christine Everhart," Tony let out a groan that Clint supposed had nothing to do with sea sickness, "but we'll be meeting her instead. We'll be planted early enough that, hopefully, SHIELD won't already be watching the location, and will instead be monitoring Ms. Potts. We cool?"

Everyone nodded but Tony, who made another gagging sound. Clint sighed. "Paws, if you throw up in my Lexus, so help me god I'll skin you."

"Like to see you try," said Tony feebly.

`~+0+~`

Pepper breezed along the air conditioned hallway, one hand clutched around the handle of her purse, the other holding onto her personal StarkTech phone. Her fingers flicked at the screen, and she continuously glanced up to make sure she wasn't about to run into anyone, but she had Ming Li, her PA, for that.

Besides, running into someone didn't seem important, what with what she was seeing online. She couldn't believe the headlines she was reading.

 ** _IRON MAN NO HERO_** and **_HULK AND IRON MAN ON THE LAMB_** stood out amongst a pile of others in some of the less than savoury newspapers, but there was always the sedate **_IRON MAN WANTED FOR QUESTIONING_** title on the New York Times. It seemed Tony had been involved in something criminal that the paper was unable to get into, but the world wide notice was out - the American government was after him and Bruce. She suspected that meant General Ross was behind things, but he wasn't mentioned in any of the articles. With each condemning word speculating on Tony's real agenda with the world's strongest weapons she felt like an ice cube slipped into her stomach.

"Ma'am?" asked Ming.

"Mm?" she looked up, distracted. Ming was stepping ahead of her, hands skimming over her StarkTech pad, looking at their schedule. She didn't regret hiring her. Despite her almost demure attitude by times, Ming was aggressive and extremely capable.

"It seems like our venue for the _Vanity Fair_ interview has changed to _Cafe Rosa._ It's just around the corner."

Pepper huffed. She didn't like talking to Christine Everhart. All she could think about when she saw the busty blond reporter was that smug look on her face when she'd had to kick her out. Things weren't exactly friendly with her, but she'd been after an interview for the last seven months, and since she was already in the area Pepper had agreed for a quick lunch date. Why not? It's not like she had Tony to babysit here.

 _Where are you, Tony?_ she thought anxiously, trying to remember to smile and nod as various important people called her name in greeting. All she could think of was her wayward boyfriend. She hoped he'd try and phone her soon. She'd been calling his number over and over hoping that it would be on but it remained off, and him out of reach. She felt no end of guilt for how their last real conversation had gone, and she wanted desperately to make amends. He was in trouble, he needed her.

The Italian sun was hot as she and Ming left the convention hall and headed out onto the stone steps of the plaza outside. Pepper instantly regretted her choice of black silk and wished for something a little lighter and breezier. Maybe her green crepe.

Further down towards the street stood Happy, waiting patiently by the Acura. He already had her travelling luggage loaded, and she started thinking about how _nice_ the air conditioned leather interior would feel. And how nice it would be to get out of her pumps.

She paused by the Lexus as Happy smiled and opened the passenger door for her. She glanced up once and saw a man in a black suit next to a towering piece of stainless steel art. The light flashed off of the contours of the sculpture, masking him with its glare. He looked... familiar.

But then the figure disappeared, and Happy was ushering her into the vehicle, alongside Ming, and the door was shut. She glanced back at the sculpture once, but the windows were heavily tinted and she couldn't make out who they were.

She shook her head, trying to put Tony and the figure out of her mind, and looked at Ming. "After lunch, what's on the agenda?"

"Well, this afternoon you've a free hour, and after you'll be expected to make an appearance at the Dolce and Gabana fashion show."

"Mm," said Pepper. She couldn't care less about this. _Tony would be scoffing right now,_ she thought. _He'd have a glass of cognac in one hand and he'd be causing me some trouble, but he'd be_ here. She wanted to cry and took a steady breath.

The streets were packed, but they arrived at the neat little cafe after a ten minute drive where Ming and Pepper shared in some stress relieving gossip. It made her think of Natasha Romanoff, Natalie Rushman that was, who was also an excellent PA and had no problem dropping the professionalism when required.

"Miss Potts," said Happy, opening her door.

She smiled at him and let herself be helped out. _Cafe Rosa_ was a charming brick fronted restaurant set beneath an apartment building. A colourful awning stretched over the door, wrought iron fence's closed off the patio. She looked around for Christine but didn't see her.

There was a Lexus parked nearby. A good-looking man was waiting nearby it. He looked sort of like he belonged to the CIA or the Men in Black, with the shades and the suit and the black bowler hat. _Who wears a bowler hat?_ she wondered as she followed Ming towards the cafe. The man waved his hand in a signal towards the door, and she noticed for the first time the colourfully dressed man waiting in the shade of the awning.

He was clean-cut with short dark brown hair, and looked maybe late twenties early thirties. She couldn't tell anything from his eyes because he wore darkly tinted purple sunglasses. He pushed off of the side of the building and made his way towards her, his posture somewhat drawn in on himself, like he wasn't used to any 'taking charge' situation.

When he spoke his voice was soft and mild, and something about him struck her as familiar, but he didn't look up to meet her eyes. Odd, for any kind of business type. "Miss Potts?" he asked, holding out a large hand.

Still sure she had seen him somewhere before, she shook his hand, which seemed uncharacteristically calloused for such a well groomed man. "I'm afraid I don't know who you are," she apologized after he'd let go. "I'm here to meet with Christine Everhart."

"I'm afraid due to an unfortunate incident she won't be able to meet. However I'm happy to step in for her. This way...?"

He opened the door for her. Struck by how odd the situation was, she glanced at Ming, who looked wide-eyed at her, shrugging. "There's nothing my e-mail, Miss Potts," said Ming.

"I'm afraid there wouldn't be. I'm new with _Vanity Fair_ myself, and I had the assignment passed to me. This way," he said again, leading them through the twisty array of little wooden tables. The air smelled like coffee beans and grilled bread, reminding her of how hungry she was.

"Can I get you anything, Miss Potts?" asked Ming, always paying attention to the details.

"Yes, a skim latte and something sweet." It felt like her blood sugar was taking a dive, and her gut was telling her she was in for an unpleasant interview.

He opened the door to a private parlour and she stepped inside, turning to look at him. "I'm afraid I didn't get your name, Mr...?"

He smiled wanly as he shut and locked the door. "Just relax, Pepper," he said, in a much deeper, firmer tone, and she realized where she knew him from.

Bruce Banner. She paused in shock, looking him up and down, squeezing her bag tight. She thought of the man in the ridiculous hat. She'd only met Agent Barton a handful of times, but...

"Bruce, what on earth...?" she said, feeling like a fish out of water. She wondered if Ming might be able to get her something stronger. And maybe a Zantac.

"I'm not the one who wants to see you," he said, pointing behind her.

She turned to look behind her. A striking blond woman she'd somehow missed was lounging on one of the plush leather sofas there, and she looked like... "Nat?" she said, feeling sucker punched.

The woman smiled, tight lipped. She tossed her head, and Pepper looked over to see a man making himself small in the far corner. They were flamboyantly dressed and looked like a model. She'd already connected the dots and knew who he was before she'd tried to see the Tony Stark she knew behind the fake glamour.

"Hello Pepper," he said softly.

"Tony... what's going on?" she asked weakly.

His answering smile was sad, and Pepper felt her heart sink deep in her chest.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long ^^' Feels ahoy!
> 
> Edit: Removed descriptors and italics

"You look ridiculous," said Pepper, trying to keep her hands from shaking by clutching her bag. All she could think about was how much of a bitch she'd been to him the last time they'd been near each other, throwing him out of her bedroom. She'd said some nasty things, things she didn't have any right to take back. Guilt rolled in her stomach.

"I know," said Tony, scratching at the back of his neck. "Not my idea."

"Maybe sit down," suggested Natasha, standing up. She pulled a device from her bag. "This would have gone off if she were bugged, but she's clean. I'll wait outside. Shall I send in your PA with your drink?"

Pepper nodded, swaying a little. Bruce's hand was on her arm and he steered her towards Natasha's vacated spot. She sat down, feeling like she'd very much like a shot of whiskey with her Zantac, no matter how counterproductive that might be.

She looked up as she sat, Bruce smiled reassuringly at her, and he moved to sit across from her. As Bruce moved she noticed Tony shift with him, walking around to sit with him. Rather than sit like a normal person on the chair, Tony sat down on the floor at Bruce's legs.

_This keeps getting stranger and stranger, she thought._

There was a soft knock and Ming came in with a little tray. She paused, taking in the appearance of Tony, but no recognition crossed her eyes, and she moved on to Pepper, frowning. "Is everything alright, Miss Potts?"

"Everything's fine, Miss Li. Set that on the table and excuse us, please."

Ming glanced mistrustfully at Bruce and Tony, setting the tray down. She nodded once and left the room. Pepper was sure she'd be going to Happy for advice on what to do. Thinking that something warm might help her nerves, she picked up her latte and blew on it, trying to absorb the heat from the mug into her cold fingers.

"What's going on?" she managed to ask after a few moments. "The newspapers have been pretty vague."

"Newspapers?" Tony asked, frowning. Bruce sat up a little straighter.

"Don't tell me you don't know," she said in disbelief.

Tony glanced up at Bruce, who nodded. He looked over at Pepper. "No. We've been... cut off. What are they saying?"

"Something about an incident in the Caribbean. They said you attacked a US transport, and you were wanted for questioning in relation to terrorist activities," she said.

Bruce and Tony shared another look. Something was oddly private about it, like she was peeking into a private conversation, and for some reason it made her flash back to her childhood, when her mother and father were trying to figure out how to tell her something.

"Well isn't that nice," said Bruce after a minute. "Now we're going to have every government agency in the world after us."

Tony made a soft sound of agreement. He glanced up at her. "Look, Pep, I'm not sure how I wanted this to go. So much has happened, things are really fucked up and, I, uh... well, it's hard, and I... fuck," he said, twisting his fingers together.

"Tony, _tell me._ I've been out of my mind, and I've been so worried, and after what happened that night, everything's just been a mess."

Tony looked at his hands. "Something happened. An incident. I'm not... I'm not safe for you, Pep's. I'm not good for you. Look at all the shit I put you through. I'm not good for you."

"Don't be stupid," she said, leaning forward. She had to put down her cup, her hand was starting to shake so hard. She worried about the end coming. Sure, she'd known any relationship with Tony would be rocky, and probably wouldn't end in marriage or a crib, but seeing the end so much sooner than she thought stung. It stung bad. "Tony, we've gotten through so much, don't be like this."

"No, I'm really not safe-"

"SHUT IT!" she said, standing up. "I know things have been rocky, but I think we can-"

"-this isn't about me, Pep's! Not about that, although that's something-"

"-make it through this-"

"-it's too dangerous-"

"-just like we make it through everything else-"

"-so that's it. I'm leaving."

She paused. "What?"

"It's over," he said, taking in a deep breath, and he looked like he was shaking just as badly as she was, hurting just as badly. His stupid, fake blue eyes had a strange sheen to them. It wasn't as if he was crying, but she couldn't describe it any other way. "It's over, Pep. That's it. It won't work."

Her heart sank lower in her chest. "You don't mean that."

"The hell I don't," snapped Tony, his body rigid. The fear and worry were gone from his face, replaced by an unexplainable anger.

"Tony," Bruce's voice was sharp, commanding. He touched Tony's cheek to get his attention, pulling him closer.

At once the aggression leaked from Tony's posture. He turned to look at Bruce, a little ashamed. "Sorry, I didn't mean for it to get so close. I'm just-"

"I know," said Bruce, and she wondered what kind of private conversation they were having. Nothing made any sense. "Just sit, okay? I'll explain."

Tony nodded, letting out a shaky breath. He muttered another soft _sorry,_ as he sank into the corner of the couch, still looking guilty.

Bruce sat back down, directly across from her.

She looked from one to the other. It was almost like they were sleeping together. No, she thought, shaking her head. _Don't go there. It'll hurt too much if you go there._ She tried to steady her hands again. "Please," she whispered, _"what's going on?"_

Bruce took a deep breath. "Tony's wanted by the government, but not for the reason the papers said. When Tony and I went on that last mission for SHIELD Tony was attacked by an alien."

"I almost died. Should have died," said Tony, and Pepper felt her throat constrict. "It tore through my armour... I'll spare you the gruesome details. Anyway, in the end it bit me."

Puzzled, she looked at Bruce. "And?"

"And it infected him."

"Like a disease?" she said, the sound more like a whisper. "Are you dying?"

"No," said Tony, his voice very small.

Bruce reached over and squeezed his arm. "It's a long story. Just listen for a little while and I'll tell you what I can, okay?"

She nodded, tears that she'd been trying so hard to fight welled up in her eyes. "Okay. I'll listen."

`~+0+~`

Clint glanced at his watch. Pepper had been in there for maybe twenty minutes. He'd been worried she'd recognize Bruce right off, but Bruce proved he was a very proficient actor, and she hadn't connected the dots about either of them. _Thank Thor for the human condition,_ he thought, _where we will purposely ignore our gut feelings if what we're seeing seems impossible._

He paced by the car. The PA had come out and spoken to Happy, both of them shooting him mistrustful looks. Obviously they knew something was wrong, but since Pepper was going with it they weren't about to object. Then the faithful assistant had whisked back inside, probably to wait by the door to the private room and listen for instructions, and Happy remained on guard, staring at him the entire time. Clint ignored him. From what Natasha had dished on him he was no threat.

He took a short walk up the street keeping his eyes moving for suspicious activity. There weren't any pre-planted tails at the cafe. No matter how good they were you could always spot a tail, the way they would never shift from what they were doing, no matter how casually they acted.

He had a few contacts with the local mafia who owed him a favour. According to one of them he'd had scope out the previous meeting location with Christina Everhart there were two plants waiting for her at the other restaurant. Nat, impersonating Ming, had already called Everhart and canceled the interview, so the plants were left watching nothing.

He counted himself lucky as he walked up the street. Maybe they weren't actively tailing her, just scoping out her various locations. It probably meant they'd hacked her e-mail, so he doubted it would be long before they showed up at _Cafe Rosa._ Happy was supposed to watch for things like that, so...

He paused by a rack of merchandise. Silly tourist stuff. He pretended to skim over it while he watched the street. So far no one was acting suspiciously. Just another sunny Italian day. Tourists swinging shopping bags, happy couples holding hands or sharing gelato, the odd business man, people walking their dogs... nice, normal.

He was about to turn and walk back when he was struck by something familiar. He couldn't put his thumb down on it, but something about the shoppers on the street... He stood straighter, scanning the crowd. It was pretty rare that something slipped out of his vision. Next to impossible.

Brow furrowed, he stepped into the shadow of an awning, looking harder. Something was wrong. Were they made? Had he looked right past a tail? It was possible. Someone high level at SHIELD might be around, and Clint didn't know them all.

His eyes lingered on a group of businessmen. One was wearing a charcoal grey suit, the other a tan suit, both probably costing upwards of eight hundred dollars and swinging Armani briefcases. They were fine, but-

-but there had been another in a black suit. Someone mild, someone unnoticeable. Someone familiar. Someone who shouldn't be there.

His mouth went dry. _No._

Heedless of their cover he ran across the street, dodging a scooter and a sedan. Both of the drivers honked, waving their fists and cursing him out in Italian, but he ignored them as he leaped onto the sidewalk and ran down it, scanning doorways, windows, alleys.

_It's impossible. It's beyond impossible. It can't be, it can't be, it can't!_

He was almost two blocks away before he stopped, drawing deep breaths that had nothing to do with exhaustion. A familiar voice chastised him in his head for not paying more attention to his surroundings and his hand shook.

 _I was imagining things,_ he thought, knowing he probably was just projecting a hope onto some random passerby. But his gut told him otherwise as he turned and walked back to the cafe. His instincts were screaming that he _had_ seen someone familiar, but he had his duty to do. He couldn't leave them alone for any length of time, not even for the few minutes he'd been searching.

His bow was buried in the trunk of his car, and he had the only easily accessible gun in a Dockers clutch. Nat's was hidden away in her purse, and Bruce had one hidden at the small of his back, but if they were ambushed they wouldn't help anything. It certainly wouldn't help for him to be two blocks away chasing the wind.

He made it back to the Lexus and scanned the area again. Nothing amiss. No lingering people, no suspicious activity. Happy still stared at him but Clint ignored the driver as he leaned against the hot black metal of his car.

Natasha appeared after a moment, her movements careful and sexy as she navigated the sidewalk's uneven surface in her stilettos. Happy's attention was diverted by her hot wiggle, and Clint smothered a grin. _You wish,_ he thought. Clint wished he could have a few minutes alone with her and tried not to leer.

"Where did you go?" she demanded, her accent sounding like she'd just stepped out of London. "You never called me. I thought maybe you were chasing a paparazzi. I almost grabbed Michael and Will and took off with them."

He recognized the fake names. In case of bugs or nearby tails they'd agreed to use their code-names in public. His accent when he spoke was distinctly Liverpool. "Sorry Miss Brickston. I thought I saw one, but it turned out I was wrong. It won't happen again."

Her look softened. "That's alright. You can tell me all about it later. I'm sure the interview will be over soon. Be ready to go."

"Yes, Miss Brickston."

She walked back into the cafe and Clint let out a slow breath.

He couldn't have seen him, could he?

`~+0+~`

"That was him, wasn't it?" asked a plainclothes agent next to him, staring through a pair of binoculars.

"Yes it was," said Agent Reid, unruffled on the outside, and inwardly anxious. It had been very close.

"I'll go and make my report to General Ross," said the agent, standing up and disappearing into the room behind him, making the ancient, rusted fire escape creak with his departure.

"You do that," he said, and started to plan what had to happen next.

`~+0+~`

Pepper couldn't stop the tears from running down her face. She'd already used up her handkerchiefs, and was now wiping her eyes with the straps of her dress, fabric be damned. It was all too much, too cruel. Tony was looking like he might start crying as well, but he hadn't left his spot in the corner of the other couch, arms wrapped tight around his knees. She wanted to laugh, wanted to tell them to stop being silly and just tell her what was going on. But she'd seen so much in her life with Tony - super soldiers, gods, aliens, the Hulk - that even something like a werewolf didn't seem so farfetched anymore. And it hurt.

She wished he'd say or do something, but he just listened to Bruce talk, staring raptly like every word was important, looking a little sad all the while.

"So, you think you might cure it?" she asked as Bruce finished telling her about the anti-viral they were hoping to create.

Bruce shook his head. "We're hoping we can stop him from shedding the virus. But from what we can tell it's already infected and changed his DNA. No cure will ever turn him back into what he was. He's as changed as I am."

Tony rubbed his eyes. "It's like you said, in our last fight... you told me I was toxic. Well, you're right, Pep."

The memory of what she'd said burned like acid. "God, I never should have said anything so cruel. I know I don't deserve it, Tony, but can you forgive me that? I didn't mean to be su-su-such a _bitch!"_

"And I was an asshole. I was neglecting you. I deserved every word."

Pepper shook her head. She knew their love for each other was like a flash fire. Hot, forceful, powerful, wild. But like a wild fire, it burned itself up. She wished it wouldn't end, not like this, not in some stupid cafe across the world where they were doing more than just breaking up. Oh god, she might never see him again, and the idea brought another wave of tears.

"So Ross wants you? For testing?"

They both nodded. Bruce's voice was soft, but it had a sharp, biting edge of anger to it. "It's why he's trying to turn us into criminals. Now the whole world will be on the lookout for us both."

"And you've got the others to help you out?"

"Yes."

"Good," she said, firmly. "Thank-you for coming and telling me this. I... Tony, I'm sorry it had to end this way."

"Me too, Pep's." He stood up now and sat with her on the couch. The thought there might be a giant, vicious beast lurking under his skin seemed laughable, but every one of his movements was calculated. "I wish I could have given you everything you wanted. I can't ask you to wait, it's not fair. I might never be safe to be around. If I get angry, I could," he sucked in hard breath, "I could really hurt you. And I can't risk you becoming vulnerable to this disease. Fuck, somehow that word doesn't seem strong enough." He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. "I wish I could have been that guy. But I think we both know even as a human, Mr. Right I was not."

She didn't nod or shake her head, but she knew what he said was true. She reached out and curled her hands around his. He squeezed once, then reached out and wrapped an arm around her, drawing her close.

"Love you, Pep's. You're the best friend a guy could ask for."

She laughed, the sound thick and harsh and it made her want to sob all over again. "I love you too, Tony. I wish... I wish you didn't have to suffer like this."

She looked up at him, and remembering their warnings that the virus was shed through bodily fluids, she kissed him on the cheek, avoid in his tear tracks. He smiled, his arms were tight around her in a hug, and she felt his lips on her hair.

"If we ever get this sorted, I'll come find you. We'll do brunch."

Pepper lightly punched him on the arm. "Right. Brunch. At that place in Malibu you like. I'll reserve us a table."

"It could be awhile," he said.

"Well, I'll wait for brunch," she said, swallowing hard, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat.

"Just don't waste your time waiting for me," he said, and she knew what he meant.

She nodded, and he kissed her again, this time very carefully on her forehead.

She glanced at Bruce, who was watching the proceedings with a neutral face, and she had an inkling he was hiding feelings of his own. She wiped at her eyes again, looking him up and down. If there was anyone who could help Tony, it was him.

"I'm glad it's you," she said, and Bruce's face was suddenly vulnerable, laid bare for her, and she could see all of his hope and pain and it killed her. It wasn't fair, she thought with a sudden surge of hate for the Asgardian who had banished the werewolves. _It's not fair that all of us have to suffer like this!_

Then Bruce's face was neutral again, and he nodded once. Tony returned to his side and Bruce casually reached out and touched his wrist. The engineers body relaxed minutely, but she could still see it. It was a tiny, barely there touch hinting at what might be coming in their futures, but it couldn't have stung more if it had been a kiss.

There was a soft knock at the door before it opened, revealing Natasha's concerned face. Her eyes swept the room and she looked sympathetic as her gaze lingered on Pepper. Despite Pepper's early misgivings about Tony's crush on her, she liked Natasha. As CEO of Stark Industries she didn't have many girlfriends, but Nat was one of them. Someone she could take her mask off with, and both of them could just be regular women having a glass of wine and gossiping together.

"We should go," she said to Tony and Bruce. "Mr. Davis thinks he might have seen a paparazzi."

Both of them nodded. Bruce slipped on the purple shades and slouched a little, returning to his persona. Tony took a deep breath and picked up a few bags of camera equipment that was his prop. He pushed a pair of dark sunglasses on and paused by the door, then looked back at her, taking a deep breath. He nodded, and she nodded back, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Take care," she said.

"You too," he replied. "See you for brunch."

Bruce nodded as well, giving her a little two fingered salute as he left the room. With another last look Tony followed.

"I'll contact you as soon as I can," said Natasha, and she disappeared with them.

Pepper wasn't alone long. Ming appeared, looking concerned as she walked into the room. Pepper felt a little lost as she looked around at the seat where Tony had just said good-bye, at her untouched scone and cold latte.

"What happened, Pepper?" Ming asked, professionalism dropped, and the two of them were just friends.

"Oh Ming," she said, looking into her earnest face, and felt her tears well up again. Ming's arms were around her, trying. She sniffed. "It was something ending. Just a sad, sad interview."

Ming pulled away, fire in her little brown eyes. "Did they hurt you?"

"No. Just told the truth. Is Happy ready with the car?"

"Yes, Miss Potts," she said, professional once more. If she was still curious or upset she didn't let it show.

"Good. I need to get to the hotel. I need to change, and my make-up is probably a mess," she said, picking up her bag.

"Yes, Miss Potts," said Ming. "Anything else?"

Pepper nodded. "A friend to share a glass of wine with?"

"My pleasure, Miss Potts," said the little Asian as she led her towards the door. "Shall I call ahead and see if they can procure a bottle of your favourite Shiraz?"

Pepper followed her out of the cafe. The street seemed too bright now, too cheery. She looked for the Lexus, for one last sign of Tony, but they were already gone to god knows where.

"Good luck," she said, and got into the car.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, kind of on a bit of a writers block, I will try to have the next one out sooner >

Clint was tense and silent the entire way home. Natasha knew something was up with him and burned to ask, but knew it wasn't the time or place with Bruce and Tony with them. He'd gone off chasing some tail into Milan, but _why_ would he have done that? It didn't make any sense. If they'd been made the plan was to get them out and back to Lake Como before the tail had the chance to report them and make life miserable for them. Instead he'd gone off on a whim and returned like nothing happened. All the while his jaw was clenched, his posture tight and rigid.

Bruce and Tony didn't seem to notice. Bruce was silent while Tony slumped over in his seat, curled into his body. Neither of them moved or spoke, but occasionally Tony would look up and their eyes would meet. Each time it happened Natasha felt like she was intruding on some kind of personal moment.

They met up with Rogers and Thor at the marina. Thor was eager to leave. Bad weather was rolling in, clouding the horizon, and a sweep of rain could already be seen coming over the horizon. After leaving the Lexus in the care of one of the marina owners that owned Clint a favour they started to speed back across the lake.

Rogers tried to engage everyone in conversation, but after awhile it was just down to him and Thor, while the others watched the lake blur with rain.

"What happened?" asked the Captain after maybe twenty minutes of the silent treatment.

"Everything that was supposed to," said Bruce, and Natasha winced, thinking about poor Pepper alone in her hotel room.

Clint snorted, still staring at the wake they left across the bay.

She turned to look at him but he avoided her gaze. Something was _really_ bothering him.

Tony practically sprang off the boat when it docked and ran for the bushes, where he retched. Bruce followed, sighing.

"You'd think after flying around as Iron Man and throwing a nuke into deep space he wouldn't get affected by a little boat..."

She smiled to herself, leaving the tying up to Clint and Thor, who was still interested in 'Midgardian Nautical Practices.' She was dying to get into some comfy clothes and maybe go a few rounds with Steve in the gym. If Natasha knew anything about her boyfriend it was that he wouldn't be talking until he was sure they were alone.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Bruce and Tony disappeared into the engineers room and locked the door, Clint decided to teach Thor what an X-Box was, and she got her sparring time in with the captain. It wasn't until much later, after a subdued dinner sans their scientists that she managed to steer Clint upstairs and into his room, fully planning on interrogating him, then seducing him.

She was dressed in a modest sheer black negligee under her kimono, and Clint gave her a wan smile as she sauntered over, shrugging off the housecoat and tossing it over one of the bed posts.

She rolled him onto the bed and sat on his lower back. Darting her eyes past scars that she was in part responsible for she began to massage the knots out of his muscles, working from his shoulders and down. He let out a low groan and she smiled a little to herself. Clint was like putty to her capable hands. She imagined what was coming later, his gliding lips over her skin, clever and capable fingers manipulating her. She almost felt like putting the interrogation off for later.

"All this to get me to talk?" he asked.

"Maybe," she replied. "You are awfully tense, though."

"You'd be tense too, after trying to talk a demigod down from a kill-spree high on Halo. He must never know I set him to handicap."

Natasha laughed and he turned and looked at her. One hand reached out, and she felt his calloused fingers skim down her throat, brushing to her collarbone. "I love it when you laugh."

She laid out next to him, running her fingers over his abs as she propped her head up on her hand. She decided to change the subject - the 'L-word' always made her a little uneasy. "So, since you know this is in part an interrogation, why don't we cut to the chase. I think you know what I want an answer to."

"Why I took off running?"

She nodded, absentmindedly tracing an arrow on his stomach streaking down from between his pectorals to his bellybutton.

"I was chasing a ghost."

Her hand paused while tracing an arrowhead on the soft patch of hair above his navel. "A ghost?"

His forehead creased and he frowned. "Yeah."

"You mean a tail, right?"

"Yes, that too. I thought I saw someone who had no right to be there."

"SHIELD agent?"

He nodded. "A dead one."

Frowning, Natasha sat up. An unpleasant feeling was curling in her stomach. "What do you mean?"

"I was probably wrong, but... I thought I saw him."

She knew who 'him' meant, and it made her feel a little ill. "He's dead, Clint. He couldn't have been there."

"Why not? It's been about half a year, plenty of time to recover from the wound." Clint was getting his dander up. He sat up in bed, rolling to kneel on the covers. "They never released the body to us. 'Security level seven," he said, in a fair mimicry of Maria Hill. "And you know we're only a level six. Then, after a few _weeks_ all they release are ashes? Coulson didn't have next of kin, he had _us,_ and that whole fiasco was a slap in the fucking face."

Natasha twisted her hands together. She'd heard all this before from Clint, many times. Even she felt the same about the fiasco that had been after New York had been dealt with. "SHIELD had their reasons."

"Yeah, their _reasons._ Fact of the matter is, we're not all that high on the damn list anymore, Nat. They didn't tell us about the modified Hydra Weapons and Phase 2. It's like Fury knew that when we volunteered to become a part of the Avengers Initiative we were going to change and he started clipping our wings. We don't know fuck all about what's going on behind the scenes anymore."

"But faking Coulson's death? To what end?"

"Undercover work," said Clint. "You've been there."

"When I worked for the Russians, yes." She frowned at him. "I think you're over reading into the situation. Coulson died and I wish he was back too, but he's dead, Clint. I'm sorry. As much as I hate to say this, you were either seeing things or saw someone who only looked like him."

"He evaded me, Tasha. He gave _me_ the slip. And don't tell me I imagined seeing someone, because you know I wouldn't. There's only about four people in the world who can throw me off, and Phil was one of them. He was like a father to us. I miss him."

"I know you do. So do I." It kept her up at night, thinking about his senseless death. If she'd had the opportunity she would have watched the light fade from Loki's eyes as he twisted and bucked on the floor, gasping for air in her choke hold. "But even if he is alive and undercover, why would he be after Banner and Stark? He was the Avengers Initiative's strongest supporter, next to Fury."

"Maybe he was brainwashed," said Clint. "He could be compromised."

"Not if he's working for SHIELD."

"He might not be," said the archer darkly. "He could be with Ross."

Natasha made a sound of disgust, anger starting to get the better of her. "I don't think so. He hated that slug."

"Again, he could be brainwashed. They could do all kinds of things to him. Like Loki's staff. We might have let Asgard take back the tesseract, but they didn't take the staff. They needed to stay it so they had a link to follow back to earth."

"Thor said that only a being of power like an Asgardian could use it," she said.

"Stop swallowing up everything they tell you! Thor could be wrong, he's been wrong before! Coulson could be out there, hunting us. He could be brainwashed. We won't stand a chance, he knows everything about us."

Natasha took a deep breath. All of it was starting to make an uneasy amount of sense. After the problem with Phase 2 Fury would never tell them if they were using Loki's staff, for good or ill. All of the Avengers would have something to say. "If it was Coulson, if it really was him, we'd already be taken. In fact, I doubt it would have taken three weeks for him to find us. It would have taken him days."

"Maybe," allowed Clint. "We've got places to hide all over this part of the world. Coulson might not think to check the villa right away."

"Stop that," she said. "It wasn't him. I refuse to believe he's still alive, or brainwashed, or somehow defected to hunt _us_ down." She stood up and got out of the bed, snatching up her robe. "You're being ridiculous."

"Tasha, come on," Clint jumped up. "I know there's a piece of you that believes what I'm saying."

And there _was,_ but too much of her was afraid of the idea. Coulson wouldn't hunt them down, he _couldn't._ She believed what Thor said about the staff, that only someone with the ability to manipulate energy the way an alien could would be able to use it. She remembered holding it in her hands, remembered the thrum of energy, but she hadn't wielded its power. All she'd done was use it like a key while staff did the rest all on its own. She also believed that Coulson was too strong to be brainwashed the conventional way. She knew all about that, remembered being deprogrammed at his and Clint's hands, weeks of screaming and agony as she fought their work. So that only left that Coulson was acting under his own will, were he alive, were he working for Ross, because he would never perform any hunt under Fury's command.

"I'm sleeping on my own tonight," she said. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Tasha," his voice was pleading now, and she stopped at the touch of his hand on her arm. "Think it over. I'll be stepping up our security systems, and we should probably start posting watches until we're sure. Maybe think of moving again."

"Maybe," she said, tugging her arm out of his grip.

She shut the door behind her, tying her robe around her middle. The corridor was freezing from the afternoons rainstorm. She thought about the last time they'd stayed in the villa. It was her, Clint, and Coulson, on their way to a mission in Greece. Her lip trembled and she shivered, pulling the robe tighter around her as she walked to her room. It had been a long day. Too long.

`~+0+~`

"And why the _hell_ didn't you mobilize?" Ross barked, slamming his fist down, voice slightly distorted by the weak speakers. "Just who the hell are you working for?"

Agent Reid remained unruffled as he watched the general rage at him through the computer screen, red faced and angry. Reid wasn't bothered much by it, he'd been threatened before by much scarier people and came out fine. Thunderbolt Ross didn't hold any sway over him. He was just there to do his job.

"I felt that an incident where Stark and Banner both lost control in the middle of an Italian street was unwise. Also, Agent Barton appeared to have noticed me. The best option was to retreat and wait for a better point of attack rather than moving forward while he was on red alert. We're not playing children's games here, General. We're serious this time. We're not after _one man_ , we're after many extremely capable and dangerous people. People who stopped an army. Rushing in will not help our goal, it will only hinder us in the end."

Ross seethed, sitting back in his chair. His side still looked like it hurt, judging by the way he winced.

"So what is your strategy, _Agent Reid?"_

Reid tapped his fingers against the desk. He was taking the web call in their temporary base of operations in Milan, a small apartment across from the Carlton, where Pepper Potts was staying for her trip. Right now his tails were still following her, even though he was sure he knew where the Avengers were based. The gesture was superfluous, but he wanted to cover all of the bases.

"I'm going to check other possible leads and wait for the fear to die down, let them get complacent. Then I'll move the strike team in and sweep through the area."

"This has to be a silent sweep, Reid. If they have the slightest idea you're there Banner will disappear with Stark and the others will put the end to your team. Especially Thor."

"SHIELD has provided what little Phase 2 had to offer, as well as some interesting weaponry General Striker developed in the Weapon X project. The demigod will pose no threat."

"Very well. I'm disembarking with the rest of the team immediately."

The screen blanked out and Reid shut the lid of the computer. He tapped his fingers against the casing a moment.

_This better work,_ he thought as he left the room.

`~+0+~`

Natasha stepped along the cool corridor, shivering a little. She wasn’t wearing much – white boy shorts, a thin camisole, and a calf length cotton house coat that she hadn’t bothered to tie up. She was holding a cup of strong herbal tea, rolling the porcelain mug forwards and backwards in her palms as she absorbed the warmth and inhaled the aromatic steam.

It was somewhere after two in the morning and sleep was evading her. She wasn’t all that concerned with being seen. The only member of the team who would object to seeing Natasha strolling about in her underwear usually went to bed at nine-thirty sharp and still wore button up men’s pajamas, and the only one that would take a lot of interest was currently working on the security systems and being ludicrous.

Further along the hall was the study which Stark and Banner had claimed. The door was open a crack, letting golden light spill onto the stone floor. _So they came out of his room,_ she thought, and paused by the door, peeking inside. She expected the two of them bent over their projects, exchanging techno-babble at half the speed of light, and instead found Banner by himself bent over a microscope and making notes.

She half considered saying something, then shook her head and moved on. It seemed ridiculous that both Thor and Banner had assumed a mantle of guilt for Tony’s condition when it was no one’s fault but circumstance. Thor of course wished to make amends for his father’s banishment of the dangerous _Ulfhedinn_ race, and Bruce didn’t seem to want to accept that anyone else could have a monster within them. But Natasha knew that Bruce didn’t think that the monsters which couldn’t become physical manifestations of evil existed. Nat knew all about the invisible monsters. Hopefully Bruce could find something to make Stark’s condition less dangerous to others.

She climbed the stone stairs, sipping her tea, and came out into the hall where Banner, Stark, and Clint, and her bedroom was. She ignored the tempting draw of Clint's bedroom and the promise of a warm body. No matter how hard it was to sleep, especially with the haunting thoughts of Coulson plaguing her, she wouldn't go to him. Not until she'd thought it through.

As she made for her bedroom she noticed Banner’s door was shut tight, but Stark’s was open.

She glanced reflexively at the open doorway and paused, unsure of what to do.

Stark was laying on his bed, cotton sheets bunched around his waist, and his arms thrown wide on the bed. His chest was bare and the arc reactor turned the entire bedroom blue, throwing shadows all over the walls which moved in time with his deep breaths. Each gasp was punctuated by a dog-like whimper, his entire body twitching reflexively, fingers flicking at the sheets.

Nat rarely felt hesitant about anything. But if she didn’t know better – and to be honest, she didn’t – Natasha was sure Stark was on the verge of transformation. His chest heaved and a low growl rolled from his throat, which tapered off with another whine and a full body shudder.

“Bruce?” she called, looking back down the hall. But Bruce was a floor down and probably in his own dimension. She could run to go get him, but in that time...

She looked back at Tony, who made a sort of barking noise, and his entire body jerked.

“Bruce?” she tried again, a little louder, but then sighed, setting her mug down, and walked into the room. By the time she retrieved him Tony might be lupine and tearing apart his room.

As a spy, when she was set into a particular role she could act in almost any way she wished. She could be a seductress, a power-hungry trophy, a strong-willed leader or wife, an assistant. But one thing she could never fully get the hang of was caring for someone or comforting them. That was what Clint was good at, calming the distressed, nursing someone back to health. Natasha preferred to run when someone was crying or injured because those emotions were hard to fake. It wasn’t that she was completely without emotion, but after years of burying the emotion to a manageable level so she could do her job it was difficult to bring them back to the surface.

She didn’t know what to do as she hovered by his bedside, one hand partially outstretched, unsure of where to place it. Shake his shoulder, whisper “there, there,” in his ear, urge him to relax? She remembered how well that had worked with Banner and rubbed her face in frustration.

Stark’s body jerked again in a whimper of pain. Natasha knelt on the edge of the mattress _(no, her hand was_ not _shaking)_ and she took a deep breath and reached out, touching Tony’s shoulder. She meant to say something soft and reassuring, meant to gently shake him into consciousness and hope that it was Stark and not the wolf which woke up. Instead all she registered was his burning hot, sweaty skin and tense muscles. The second she touched him his breathing cut off, his eyes snapped open, and she found herself flipped onto her back with Tony above her, pinning her to the mattress.

_Fuck!_

Tony’s eyes were silver, focused, and his arms where like iron bars. Natasha secretly wished she hadn’t been so stupid to walk about the villa half naked. She was feeling pretty vulnerable.

“Stark?” she whispered.

The only response she got was a low growl, and Tony’s body rippled. She wondered if he were about to lose it, that she was going to die, after all this time, by the hands of a friend rather than an enemy, and thought maybe it was only fitting.

Natasha never had parents, but one of her handlers used to sing to her when she was very young. A deceptively small man named Alekseev. He didn’t approve of Natasha being used but didn’t protest beyond perhaps caring too much for her (she’d been forced to kill him when she was sixteen, adding perhaps the darkest red entry to her ledger yet). When exhausted from physical training or screaming from nightmares he would sit with her and sing an old French gypsy song his mother used to use on him until she calmed and drifted off to sleep.

Remembering Bruce’s warnings about eye contact she looked away and began to sing the old words, trying to remember the kindness in his eyes as he held her, rather than his blood wet face when she killed him, and wondered when Tony would end her, how much it would hurt (she could still hear Stark’s screams over the comm-link as Bruce shook in the seat beside her and she’d had to fly straight).

It seemed like hours, but in reality was only four stanzas, before his steel grip relaxed, his body sagged, and he let out a shocked, tortured kind of sound.

She chanced a glance back and was relieved to see his eyes were a normal, dark brown again. He looked terrified. “Nat?” he whispered.

“Feeling better?” she asked, squinting through the blue of the arc reactor.

He swallowed hard. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head, deciding not to mention how numb her arms were starting to get.

He glanced over her, blinking like he wasn't really sure what he was seeing, and she cleared her throat. Pinned to Tony Stark's bed in her underwear wasn't one of her fantasies.

"Uh, right, right," he said, rolling off of her. "Sorry."

"No problem."

She shimmied up the bed, rubbing her arms to get the feeling back. She was about to leave the room when she heard Tony make a soft choking sound.

_Do not run away,_ she thought, and turned to face him. "You alright?"

He shrugged. "Nightmare."

"Figured as much."

He let out a small, barking laugh. "Right."

Sometimes Clint would ask her, when he woke her up in the middle of the night, if she wanted to talk about it. She never did. It was easier to turn into him, dig her nails into his shoulders, and take comfort in a more physical way. But he always persisted in asking first.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He looked at her, his eyes distant, sad. She couldn't imagine how much he was hurting. "I was... I was the wolf. On the helicarrier. In the darkness."

Clint had told her about being hunted by the wolf, the light of the arc reactor coming closer, the giant, inky black body of the creature invisible amongst the pipes. She didn't offer anything.

His voice sunk to a weak whisper. "I dreamt about Clint."

She swallowed, afraid to hear more. "It's okay."

"No, it's not. Thor says things like, werewolves aren't all bad, the creature inside can be tamed, made safe, controlled, but... I would have killed Clint. I know that. I dreamt he couldn't get away from me." He shuddered. "None of you are safe."

"The same argument could be made of the Hulk," she said.

"He knows you now, knows you're okay."

"One day your wolf will know us too."

Tony shook his head and said nothing. He got up and walked across the room, opening the balcony door. She shivered when she felt the first blast of chill mountain air on her skin, raising goose bumps. After a moment she followed, first knotting her housecoat, then snatching up a blanket from his bed and draping it around her shoulders.

His room was located on the back of the house and the forest spread out over the roots of the mountain like a dark mantle. Mist rose from the trees, threading through the dark blue sky. Tony leaned against the railing, topless, his skin tight with the cold weather.

She joined him. "What makes you think he won't?"

"It's an animal. A savage, unfeeling animal." He glanced at her. "Do you know what I want to do sometimes?"

Natasha shook her head.

"I want to run in the woods. I want to run and run and run, with the air whipping past my head. I want to hunt, Nat. All I can think of sometimes is hunting."

"I can relate to base instincts," she said. She knew deep down she had a nasty animal inside of her too, one that was hungry to prove itself, to protect in every way she knew how. "Maybe you should do it."

Tony turned to look at her. "Do what?"

"Go out there. Run. Hunt."

Tony looked sceptical. "You mean willingly transform?"

She nodded.

"I don't think I can. I need anger. Heat. Motivation. I... I can't touch that part of me, when it doesn't have a reason to be there."

"Neither could Bruce, at first," she said. "I'm sure you could."

"Well I appreciate your faith in me," he said. "I also could wind up anywhere out there, and someone could get hurt."

"I don't think you would. You'd find something, tire yourself out."

Tony didn't reply, Natasha didn't bother to pursue it.

"Well," she said, after a long time, when her toes were getting numb from the wet and freezing stone, "I think I'm going to go to bed."

"To Clint?" When she didn't answer he chuckled. "I can smell it on you, when you guys are together. You don't realize how good my nose is."

"I'm going to make sure I always wear deodorant now," she said, and Tony laughed, a bright and clear sound. "It'll be okay, Tony. We'll figure this out."

"Thanks," he said, still staring at the forest, and she wondered if he was feeling the pull even then.

She walked over to him and stood on her tip toes, leaned in, and kissed him on the cheek. "Sleep well."

"Sleep well," he replied, looking surprised.

Inside the room she tossed the heavy quilt on the bed and retrieved her cooling mug from the threshold of his bedroom. She was about to go to her room when she looked at Clint's room and sighed. Hoping he was in his room she went to his door and let herself in.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god I'm so sorry this has taken forever. Still with me?

Tony felt himself drifting under the deep baritone direction from Bruce. He didn't count his breaths but he focused on them, the slow draw in, the slow release. The loss of tension from his shoulders, neck, chest. A gradual mindlessness spread over him like a fuzzy blanket, a comforting dark spot.

As Bruce's voice faded into silence Tony felt utterly calm. He had a vague notion that maybe meditating wasn't just for new-agers and hippies.

He didn't know how long he'd sat there on the floor of Bruce's bedroom with the scent of lavender oil pervading everything before he became aware he wasn't alone in his mind.

He wasn't sure if it was any kind of true consciousness. It was intelligent, but it had no words to express itself. He sensed it didn't want or need higher thought of that kind, and instead was merely a coalescence of emotions with a strong, unifying thread of self awareness and wordless understanding.

The creature met his mind without fear. Tony could hardly make out the messages the wolf was sending him, they came so fast, blurring together, pictures of life mingling with meaningless sounds, important scents.

The desire to be free warred with a grudging acquiescence. It wasn't so much as angry as it was prepared to spring into action. Being idle was boring to it. It longed to be free, to shape its pack (he was fed images of the others, one by one, with varying ranges of emotions). It wanted to run, to hunt. Latent aggression bubbled beneath each feeling, every half-formed picture.

But strongest was the desire for _them._

Tony sucked in a startled breath as visions of Bruce assaulted him. The earliest was from the medical bay. Bruce was practically straddling Tony as he held down his convulsing body, his eyes burning green, urging him to be still, that he was safe. Then he fed him images of waking up to find Bruce vigilant at their bedside, felt the concern and anxiety of sending him away. Then came pictures of the Hulk. The wolf had been scared, lashing out, needing to protect himself. It was blind to what the Hulk truly was, and while it recognized the scent it couldn't place it, understanding it was familiar, just twisted.  Then he saw flashes of the transformation back, a strong affirmation from the wolf that it recognized Bruce and he and the giant green monster were one. It knew it had been beaten by both Bruce and the golden haired pack mate with the scent unlike all the others _(strong, golden, glowing like the sun)._ Other memories trickled after _(pleasure at being cared for, red anger and the need to protect),_ but one theme carried throughout it all. A deep, all encompassing well of feelings _(needing, desire, respect, admiration, love)_ for a creature like him, one worthy of his affections.

All of the visions together lasted maybe a second, and Tony opened his eyes, thrown out of the quiet space with the force of it all.

Bruce was watching, the look in his eyes knowing what was going on, or at least part of it.

"You made contact, didn't you?" said Bruce, and Tony shuddered, fighting his feelings, the wolf's feelings. The fever heat burned in his muscles.

And then came a startling moment of clarity. Tony could see the rift between his emotions and the wolf's, and they weren't entirely dissimilar. Something was there, something was growing. Something to do with the man across from him, and it made his mouth go dry.

"Yes," he said, a shiver rolling down his spine.

"Do you have a lid on it?" asked Bruce.

Tony felt the shaking ease away. It was like the wolf was expecting something, pleased that Tony had connected the dots.

"I... think so," he said, wiping at his forehead.

Bruce's voice was soft, curious. "What was it like?"

"Strange. It doesn't... think in words. How does the Hulk think?"

Bruce looked thoughtful. Tony's eye sight was probably better than the Hawk's now, and he could see small glowing green flecks appear amongst the warm brown of his iris's as he physicist concentrated.

"Well," said Bruce in a long drawl as his brows furrowed, "I hear him in emotions as well, but I wouldn't say he's _without_ words. It's hard to describe. When he's close I can hear him growl, feel his anger and anticipation, but sometimes, yes, he'll put a thought into words. The Other Guy isn't what you'd call verbose."

Tony smirked. The Hulk was the king of two-word sentences. "I guess not."

"How would you describe Mr. Paws?"

"Not you too," Tony griped.

Bruce grinned, unrepentant. "Sorry. It's catchy."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Sorry, my perfectly sculpted ass. You're all ridiculous."

"In lieu of a better name, Paws he shall remain. Now, fess up."

Tony closed his eyes, trying to recapture some of what he'd felt before. "Just emotions. Strong feelings. No clear-cut thought processes. It just shifts, so it's hard to keep up."

Bruce nodded. "At its core, it's just instinct."

Tony shrugged. "Not too sure about that. It's very intelligent. It just doesn't need words. Doesn't want them, I guess."

"What did it tell you?"

Tony shifted uncomfortably, fingering the fabric on his pants. Bruce didn't really need to know just how strongly the wolf felt about him. "Stuff. It doesn't like being idle."

"Reminds me of the Other Guy."

"Yeah."

Bruce smiled, a 100 watt kind of smile that filled Tony with a sort of squirming pleasure. He'd do anything for that grin to stay there all of the time. "Well, that was great progress. Let's call it a day. Anything you'd like to do?"

He was going to shrug and suggest some lab time when, as he and Bruce began to clean up the candles, their fingers brushed. He was going to pull his hand away, but Bruce was blushing and the feel of his skin was soothing. Without thinking Tony ran his hand over Bruce's and higher, resting on his forearm.

 _Oh god,_ thought Tony, his body leaning in without meaning to, and Bruce's heart picked up. Tony could smell something intoxicating that seemed to make his mind burn and mellow out at the same time, better than any drug. He glanced up - he was caressing him now, his fingertips skimmed over Bruce's skin, tickled by the soft hairs there - and he met the other man's eyes, dark with desire, a little anxious, nervous.

Bruce licked his lips in an uneasy gesture, his pink tongue slipping out to wet his soft lips. "Tony," he began, but the engineer didn't let him finish. He covered Bruce's mouth with his own. He supposed Bruce had been about to let him down, to draw a line between them, but Tony had been lost the second the physicists lips had moved, consumed with lust.

Tony leaned in, pushing Bruce down onto the soft feather cushion he'd been using while they meditated. One hand cupped Bruce's neck while the other supported them. He registered Bruce pushing on his chest, but he wasn't fooled. The pheromones in Bruce's scent were over-powering, like distilled _sex._ Tony was trapped and unable to stop, pinned by the scent alone.

He ran his tongue along Bruce's lower lip, trying to get him to respond. Didn't he get it? Didn't he just fucking _know_ how badly both Tony and the beast inside wanted him? He growled, wound a fist into Bruce's curls, and nipped his lower lip.

Bruce gasped and made a sound that probably indicated pain or rejection, and Tony ignored it, taking advantage of his parted lips, tasting him, exploring just a moment before there was a sharp burst of pain on his tongue and he tasted blood.

He pulled back, glaring at the physicist. Bruce had blood on his lips, and his eyes were burning green. Tony didn't know it was possible for someone to look angry, afraid, and aroused all at once, but Bruce was pulling it off.

"Why'd you bite me?" asked Tony, his voice rough, almost a growl.

"Why are you intent on raping me?" Bruce's voice was dangerous, black, and Tony could smell the tell-tale wisp of anger signalling the surface of the Hulk.

"You want me," said Tony, knowing he sounded accusing. "I can smell it - your pheromones. You want this as bad as we do."

The plural was startling, and he could see the shock in Bruce's eyes. "And just how much of _you_ is in there, Tony?"

"All of me," he said, "and," he inhaled, Bruce's scent was _burning_ in his throat as he tasted it, "and _fuck_ I _want_ you." He kissed him again, and broke away for just a moment to meet his green, defensive gaze again, "I need you."

"You don't need me," said Bruce, a shadow of the old self-loathing colouring his features. "And this is dangerous, you could lose control."

"I won't," said Tony, "and I'll stop if it gets close. Please, Bruce, can we just try? Don't turn me away." He didn't think he could stand it. It had only been a day since he'd seen Pepper and his chest still felt raw from that, but he couldn't convince himself to stop. He needed Bruce now, needed Bruce to take the pain from him, make him feel.

This time Bruce kissed him first, and it was almost sweet, his hands stroking Tony's face like he was trying to map it by touch. The engineer reached down and hitched up his leg, bringing their hips together. He was eager to find Bruce was just as hard as he was and he ground down against him, loving the rough feel of fabric on his cock, the pressure, wondering if it felt as good for Bruce, and decided it must judging by the drawn out moan it elicited. 

He rocked again, almost happy to just rut like this in a mindless haze of grinding and touching, breath turned to steam between them, the heat of Bruce's fingertips burning pathways over his shoulders. Tony felt a moan turn to a growl in his throat, felt his muscles getting hotter and hotter as his heart thundered in his chest.

 _No,_ he thought, as the wolf's consciousness grew larger, and he began to kiss Bruce's neck, feeling the blood pump under his lips red hot, his scent dazing, confusing, so good...

Bruce stiffened beneath him, a gasp of pain hissed from between his teeth. "Tony, you're squeezing - you're - stop, _STOP!"_

Tony pulled away, panting. He could smell blood.

Bruce twisted from his arms, looking down. Tony hadn't felt his hands change, but where he'd been holding the other man's hip there were several red dots of blood weeping through the linen fabric of Bruce's tunic. Shame rolled over him and he dropped his head, guilt like acid in his stomach.

"It's okay," said Bruce, trying to sound soothing as he peeled the fabric back to reveal the puncture's. Blood oozed out, matting his stomach hair.

"No it's not," he said, his voice breaking, caught somewhere between transformations, "I _hurt_ you."

"Tony-"

Tony shook his head as he lurched to his feet. He was transforming, he could feel it coming. The cartilage in his joints were snapping and popping, a stretching grinding ache pulled and throbbed in his bones and muscles and skin. Heat washed over him as the rising tide of instincts that dwelled within his mind crested and he cried out, voice distorted as his esophagus and trachea began to separate.

"Tony, try to hold on," Bruce was scrambling up, the pillow pressed against his wound, hands bloody. Blood caused by _him._

A sharp shudder rolled down his back. Someone was yelling, urging them to open the door before he was forced to break it down.

A sweet-smelling breeze wafted through the window. It tasted like freedom, tugged like a shackle, and he angled towards it. Before any rational thought was formed Tony let out a short howl, shame burning his marrow as his frame expanded and his clothes began to tear.

Bruce was yelling, but the words didn't matter. Behind him the door splintered.

He couldn't stand his own flesh, didn't deserve to be in Bruce's presence.

He leapt from the window, his arms wind-milling up. The soft, manicured lawn and soil gave easily under the force of his landing. His vision was distorting, colours and shapes grew sharper, more detailed. Pain wracked his body, his heartbeat thundering high and his shoulders popped, his face stretched and fangs distended, his skin felt like it was being stretched.

_"TONY!"_

He saw the high stone wall which marked the edge of Clint's property. The forest was beyond, pulling him like a fishhook behind his heart. His body quaked, and he ran like an Olympic sprinter off of the line, throwing clumps of dirt and grass behind each of his heavy steps, feet that were more like paws digging into the soil, tearing through turf with his claws. His arms pumped with his legs and he felt _alive_ as the forest swallowed him in its dark embrace, but he found he could see in black and white and deep, strange colours as the boughs embraced him.

The forest was alive with sounds and scents and sights, and Tony felt himself feel more at _home_ than he had in years. His mind slipped backwards, letting the snarling, angry presence in his mind take the pilots chair, but he didn't really see or feel what was happening as they ran in the same body together, and eventually he saw nothing at all.

`~+0+~`

Thor came crashing into Bruce's room with a final rush of the thick timber door, spraying splinters and bits of wood over the stone floor. He took one glimpse of Tony's massive black body disappearing over the wall and made to leap out after him, but Bruce stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"No," he said. Breathing was painful, and the slightest movement caused a burn that threatened to pull the Other Guy forward. Bruce fought the pain. He couldn't deny that the Hulk would, in all likelihood, heal the wound, but Bruce had a feeling that the Other Guy's exit would not be graceful. It was a blessing that he was so high on endorphins from kissing Tony that he hadn't Hulked out right there. Then there would have been a fight, and the villa would have become expensive rubble.

Thor looked at him. "Are you not concerned about Friend Tony's condition?"

"I am, but he needs to vent."

Thor looked around the room. "How did he come to injure you?"

Bruce blushed in spite of himself, holding the pillow a little tighter. Normally he was quick with lies, but he couldn't think of a single one. He despaired telling the truth.

Say what one would about the demigod's blatant naivety, though. He was not slow on the uptake, and read right into Bruce's stuttering silence.

"I see. Yes, many young _Ulfhedinn_ were incapable of intimate physical contact. It was especially complicated when they attempted to mate with an Asgardian, rather than one of their own, and was often met with heart break."

Bruce looked at Thor. He hadn't thought about the _Ulfhedinn_ trying to move outside of their own kind before. "Do... do they need another of their own kind?"

"It is hard to say. It would help because their mate could communicate with them in either form. Pair bonds between the _Ulfhedinn_ and Asgardian's were often unsuccessful. I know of only one which lasted."

Bruce felt suddenly inadequate as a heartbreaking howl rent the air in the woods beyond. He'd never be what Tony needed, and Tony would always want for more.

The others appeared at the door, all of them armed. Clint was in full uniform. He'd taken to wearing it while patrolling the house and the grounds.

"What the fuck did you do to my door, Thor?" he said, stepping over the piles of splintered timber.

"I had to make haste," was the demigod's reply.

Bruce ignored the others as they began to bombard them with questions, let Thor answer them. He was thinking of how to bridge the gap with Tony, if he ever could. He wasn't like them, he wasn't a -

He paused, feeling the _green_ of the Hulk waiting, and knew what he had to do. Maybe he wasn't a wolf, but he had a monster too. He closed his eyes as sweat prickled over the nape of his neck and between his shoulder blades, and he dove into his own mind looking for the box that held the anger in.

"Bruce? Everything alright big guy?" he heard Steve ask but he could hardly hear.

The Other Guy pressed forward and Bruce gasped, balling his fists, gritting his teeth. _I need you, but we have to be careful. We have to be_ both _of us,_ he sent the Hulk, and he could feel a tightness, an anger bubbling between his muscles and his bones, _please._

And then he felt an agreement like a truce, and he felt the pressure increase under his skin, anger mixed with fear and anxiety for Tony like a balloon blowing up bigger and bigger. He groaned, gritting his teeth.

"Bruce?" Natasha's voice was edgy, worried.

He felt the Hulk rising up like a green wave and his side began to itch and burn. Swallowing hard, he shifted, lifting the pillow off of his side. Green welled up beneath the punctures and olive tinted blood oozed for a moment before they closed, leaving a few raised scars behind. He'd never felt so powerful or in control before.

"I'm going after Tony," he said, pulling off the bloody tunic. He tossed it into the trash can.

"Are you insane?" said Steve.

"He's wolfed out," said Clint, his voice flat, "he doesn't exactly recognize friend or foe right now, Bruce. Trust me on that one. He'll fight you."

"He needs me. And he needs the Hulk. I'll be fine," he opened the doors to the balcony and looked down. How had Tony jumped that far? It seemed silly, thinking about when he'd leapt out of an helicopter, to be freaked out by three stories, but he wasn't planning on transforming this time.

"I'd stay away if I were you," warned Bruce. "He won't attack me, but there's no guarantees on you guys."

Natasha sighed, crossing her arms. She was dressed for bed and was looking annoyed. "I'll come find you in the morning with clothes."

"I appreciate it," said Bruce.

 _Ready?_ He thought, and received an affirmation from the Hulk. He grunted as the Hulk welled even closer to the surface. His pants grew tight and his muscles swelled, green bleeding out over his feet and hands and chest. He could feel it in his eyes and jaw as he huffed, staring at the woods beyond. _Let's do this._

He jumped over the balcony and hit the same tracks that Tony had left and his legs curled, easily absorbing the impact. He looked up at the wall, then over his shoulder at the balcony. Thor was there with Mjolnir, watching, waiting.

He nodded once and ran towards the fence and leapt, clearing it as easily as hopping the curb. With a spray of loam he hit the other side. The world was dark, a painting of deep blues and purples all tinged with green and he took a short breath, tasting the air. His nose wasn't as refined as Tony's, but he could smell the tell-tale hints of life from the villa behind him, hear the murmur of their voices beyond.

He skimmed the darkness. Somehow the wolf's feet had begun to travel whisper light, and beyond the gouge of earth where the wolf had landed there were no signs or tracks to follow. He listened to the night sky. Crickets with their high voices sawed away to either side, but before him the forest seemed dead.

 _Find him,_ thought Bruce, and the two ran forwards together.

He'd never thought of a truce with the Hulk, allowing access for both of them. With the Other Guy's thoughts close to the surface he could feel the anxiety to keep Tony safe as well, regardless of the form he was in. It was strange being able to pick apart the Hulk's feelings for his teammates. Respect, actual respect, flowed from him towards them all, for letting him do what he needed to do, for letting him work his rage out without hunting or persecuting him, for sticking up for Hulk when the battle with the aliens had been done. And Tony was there in the same frame of the Hulk's heart as Betty Ross, loved for the same lack of fear, for recognizing that Hulk was Hulk, and not hating him, for giving him a chance and a place to be loved. Bruce was the only one who hadn't afforded the Hulk that attitude.

 _I'm sorry,_ thought Bruce as the forest flashed around them, climbing up the roots of the mountain, eyes on the lookout for any signs of Tony.

The Hulk responded with a brush of annoyance. Bruce sighed. His small size would forever be a source of annoyance to his bigger counterpart. The Hulk sent a wave of agreement and Bruce laughed.

They paused, kneeling on a boulder at the edge of a small creek. Bruce looked up into the sky, eyes searching for a flash of Mjolnir or sign of Thor but he saw nothing. He couldn't help but feel like he was being watched, though.

 _Close,_ came a rumbling sound from within, and the word startled Bruce, shook his hold on the Hulk. _North. Go as puny self._

Bruce felt the tightness, the power, leak out of him, watched as his bare arms deflated. He shivered as he was exposed to the full elements. The Hulk's internal temperature ran much hotter than any humans, and without it Bruce was freezing.

As he slipped off of the boulder and onto the ground he also wished he brought shoes. Twigs, hidden underneath of the carpet of leaves bit the bottoms of his feet. The going was slow as he picked his way amongst the roots. He could feel the Hulk waiting and watching, knew that even then his eyes were green and bright and not entirely his own.

He came out into a small clearing, a half circle ringed with spruce and birch that rose from him on a mild incline to the tree roots above. In the light from the crescent moon he could see the rippling wave of dark grass and the black of the trees beyond. He shivered a little, scanning the trunks and boulders for signs of life.

There was a heavy snuffling sound and Bruce paused, his entire body going rigid. Despite Thor's insistence that there was some kind of bond between them he still remembered the way Tony had begun to transform just from their kiss, how he reacted from the tiniest infraction. The last werewolf had been a capable killer, Tony was no different. He couldn't screw this up. It wasn't that he was afraid the wolf might kill him, but he was afraid the Hulk might kill Tony.

A hard, heavy sweep of emotion like derision rolled up his spine and he shook his head, sending a silent _sorry,_ back.

It was a bizarre feeling, to have his head moved without being in control of it. He looked up and over to the north eastern part of the clearing and felt himself focus in on the trees there. The shadows were darker between the boulders and amongst the trunks, but not because there was less light. Something was _there._

The Hulk snorted in his mind as Bruce's heart stumbled a bit. He took a step towards it and the shadow withdrew slightly.

"Tony," he said, hating the slight quaver of his voice. "Paws, wolf, whatever you see yourself as."

A long, thin whine came out from the emptiness of the trees beyond, painful, scared. Bruce swallowed, holding up his hands. "It's okay. I want you to come out now."

There was a shifting at the top of the ridge and then a flash of silver and blue as the wolf moved forward into the meagre light. His head raised, eyes glowing faintly in the dark, heavy arms curled beneath its bulk. There was a definite droop to its ears and its head was low, tilted, ashamed. Despite its efforts at trying to make itself small the _size_ of the wolf took his breath away, wondered if that's what people felt when they looked at the Hulk. Tiny, invisible.

He licked dry lips and started to step forward, going slow and careful, avoiding looking at his eyes. When he was five feet away he stopped, his mouth dry and heart thundering in his throat.

Paws lifted his head to look up at him, his silver eyes sorrowful and deep. Bruce raised a shaking hand and reached out, trying not to focus on the fact that the wolf's snout was almost as long as his forearm and much thicker, trying not to imagine the teeth that were underneath those heavy jowls. Then the wolf flinched back, sinking his head lower to rest on its massive hands, something between a whine and a growl rolling out from its throat.

It felt like his windpipe was closing. He knelt slightly, reaching further, praying that Thor was right, that everything was going to be fine, that the wolf wouldn't snap its massive jaws and take his arm. _But it's Tony in there. He's there. He's there._ It became a mantra in his head.

"Tony," he whispered.

Inches from touching the thick, glossy black fur of his forehead the wolf reacted, his ears raising, eyes alert and angry. He stood lightning fast, throwing his arm aside, and Bruce fell, hit the grass, and rolled down the slope. A furious snarl, deep and guttural, ripped from its maw, spittle flying from his long fangs.

 _Jesus, we were wrong!_ he prepared for the Hulk to rise but all he felt was a tightness, a sense of alarm and waiting swelling through him. The Hulk was _there,_ watching, ready, and unafraid.

Then the wolf was over him, but not looking at him. Bruce gasped, digging his fingers into the dirt, scraping fingernails on rocks as he stared at the massive body above him. The arc reactor lit the scene, showing the rippling muscles rolling beneath his dark coat, thin and sparse over his stomach, thickening as it rolled over his chest and shoulders. Heavy hands and muscular legs had slammed into the dirt around Bruce, but his attention was directed elsewhere, a steady growl rumbling from low in his throat.

He couldn't see who might be in the shadows, but he had an idea. Thor, or the Captain, could have kept up with him, to make sure he was safe. Maybe even Clint, with his good eye sight and instinct. He hoped whoever they were they had the sense to _keep back._

He rolled in the grass and got to his feet, crawling out from beneath the protective cage of arms and legs. The wolf huffed, curling over him, a sharp, quick growl punctuated the movement, and Bruce tumbled back down, landing on his back.

Bruce swallowed, staring into his the silver depths of his eyes. "It's okay. They aren't here to hurt me," he said.

The wolf looked back up, snorting, a rumble rippled his flanks. Bruce sat up, scooting back out of his arms with his palms. He looked over his shoulder. "It's okay!" he called. "I'm fine!"

There was no reply from the trees, but Bruce sensed them there all the same. The instinct was born of years of hiding and running.

He rolled again, scrambling up through the grass. He turned to look at Tony, whose posture was still rigid and tense. He let out a slow breath and reached out again.

"Easy," he murmured, when he rumbled in a small growl. "Easy."

He touched the wolf's forehead, laying one finger between the ridge of his brows, before pressing, his fingers lost in the inky black fur, palm flat against the top of his skull. The glow seemed to dim in the wolf's eyes, iris's and pupils became more defined, shards of brown appearing amongst the silver. He let out a breath, shifting, reaching with his other hand, finding the soft fuzz behind the massive jaw, and the wolf rumbled again, this time the sound like a deep, contented purr.

"Tony," he murmured.

His head rose up, almost sorrowful, wary eyes sought his. Bruce stepped closer, curling his hands around his skull, petting his thick coat. "You are in there, aren't you?"

The wolf snorted, blowing a gust of hot air over his chest. It sniffed almost delicately, and Bruce laughed at the feeling of whiskers and fuzz skimming his skin with the wet press of his muzzle against his stomach. The wolf shifted again, getting comfortable, resting back on its haunches, touching its nose against Bruce's clavicle for a moment in its inspection.

"It's okay. I'm not mad. All healed, see?" he turned, exposing his side and the faint scars. "See, Mr. Paws?"

The wolf snorted, a derisive sound that reminded him of Tony, and he flinched at the contact of his wet nose with his side. Then the wolf looked up, staring like it was seeking something in Bruce's eyes. Bruce opened his mouth to talk when the wolf snuffled forward and ran its tongue from shoulder to jaw, slick and hot.

"UGH!" Bruce couldn't stop himself as he flinched, wiping at his neck, trying to get away.

The wolf made a coughing sound like a laugh, then pushed forward, bumping its head into Bruce's chest hard enough to send him sprawling in the grass _again._ The wolf was over him, nuzzled his neck again and started to lick him from shoulder to hairline, mussing his hair and coating his skin in sticky saliva. He tried to push against his shoulders but it was like pressing on a fuzzy brick wall. He yelped as he was flipped on his stomach, one massive arm curled around him, and the ground shuddered when the wolf twisted and fell on its side, dragging Bruce against it, wet nose pressing into the nape of his neck.

"Ooookaaaay," Bruce said, squirming. Paws might have been being cuddly, but he couldn't help but noticed he still had wicked claws. He managed to twist out from underneath the heavy arm and stood up, stumbling back, feeling in strong need of a shower as the air dried the saliva on his back. "Good, good boy," he muttered, wiping at his neck again. "Blech. For the record, it's gross enough when a small dog does that."

His small, fluffy tail thumped into the ground and his maw split in a big, lupine grin, tongue lolling out of its mouth. The arc reactor shone amongst the mass of fur, and the wolf rolled on its back, exposing its stomach.

Bruce smiled. "Alright. Good, um, wolf," he said, and dropped to his knees and reached out, giving his stomach a good scratch, marvelling at the feeling of humanoid muscles beneath his pelt. The massive wolf wiggled in pleasure, rolling further, before he lumbered back to his paws and shook, skin rippling down from shoulders to tail.

He flinched as it lifted its head and howled, a short burst that didn't sound angry, or scared. Then he looked back down, tail still whipping back and forth.

"Feel better?" Bruce asked, feeling kind of awkward.

The wolf rumbled again.

The Hulk pressed up inside of him and he let out a slow breath. "Okay. Do you want to run with me?"

The wolf's ears perked up and his body went stock still.

"I'm going to change. But it's okay, he won't hurt you. He likes you too. And we'll run, okay? We'll run together."

The wolf let out a barking sound, shifting, its paws making the ground tremble with each stomp, before it stilled again, watching, his gaze intelligent and sharp.

Bruce nodded, closed his eyes, and found the anger that was nestled deep, felt the rippling emerald energy that hid in his core, sparking somewhere in his mind, and it welled up inside, pushing and pulling everything with it. But Bruce was determined to hold on, and let out a cry as the Hulk burst from him, grunting and yelling with the rippling force of his instincts.

Distorted, confusing images pieced together like stained glass coloured everything, and his eyes met the wolf's. They were equals in size and ferocity and wordless understanding.

He turned towards the trees, his eyes easily penetrated the darkness to see a figure crouching in the treetops but he ignored them, whoever they were. The others weren't important. He glanced at the wolf, who was staring at him, his frame still and alert, eyes wary.

"Come," he said in the Hulk's gravelly voice, and it wasn't just him that spoke.

He turned and ran into the trees, away from whomever the watcher was. He heard the feather soft footfalls, the padding of the wolf's feet so different from his crashing gait as the trees flew past. They were shadows together, twisting away and then together around the tree trunks. Streams splashed in icy waves sending droplets like crystal catching moonlight, soaking green skin and ebony fur.

They explored the roots of the mountain together, climbed high to see stars poised above the mirror of the lake in the cold wind, and the Hulk's mind was buzzing with freedom and the carefree joy of exploration while Bruce's heart sang with his, sang to have this with Tony and the wolf, the four of them, together, until the sky turned blue in the predawn light.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god you guys this took forever i keep one chapter ahead, so i refused to post this until the next one was done and it was like, 13 pages of pure action that refused to be written. I AM GOING TO TRY SO HARD TO GET THE NEXT ONE OUT BEFORE A MONTH PASSES
> 
> (and i know i've said that a lot but w/e guys bear with me here)

When Tony woke up it was to the sound of bird song and wind in the trees. He also thought he could hear Clint's fountain, so he supposed they must have left the damn window open, because _fuck_ was the bedroom cold and damp. He dug his head into his pillow, which was relatively soft and damp and started patting the air around him, seeking the covers. His hand touched grass, and when he shifted he felt the tree roots, pine needles and pebbles digging into his skin.

He opened his eyes, drawing in a sharp breath, and could smell the sweet scent of loam, moss, decaying leaves and something Bruce but... not. He was lying in a small glade in the woods. Judging by the way his entire body felt like it had been hanging in a meat locker, it stood to reason he was naked.

 _Well,_ he thought, _never woke up naked in the woods before._

He sniffed the air again, taking a deeper breath. He could tell he wasn't alone. He rubbed the dirt next to him, stirred the soil, and the scent of Bruce rose from it. He lifted his head and glanced at the bundle of rags he was using as a pillow.

_What the hell?_

"Shit!"

He jumped and twisted around in time to see Bruce slip and stumble, splashing water all over the ground. He sat up, knowing he was staring open mouthed as Bruce recovered and started washing the dirt off of his body in the stream he had mistaken for a fountain.

"Damn that hurt," he heard Bruce mutter at a volume Tony knew he shouldn't have been able to hear at that distance.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Bruce stood, water dripping of his hands and running down his chest and legs. Tony swallowed, a bolt of lust surging through him at the sight of him standing in the cool rushing water. It was followed closely after by shame, and he dropped his head, unable to look at him.

"I should be asking you that," said Bruce. He heard him splashing as he stepped out of the stream.

"I'm fine," he said. "You're the one that got cut open by me."

Bruce was chuckling as he walked across the grass. Tony glanced up to see Bruce thump down onto the ground beside him.

"I'm fine, Tony. The big guy healed all that."

"The Hulk came out?" He couldn't remember anything after he had started transforming, not really. The bedroom was just a blur of sensory input that didn't seem to fit together in any cohesive form.

"We came and found you in the woods."

"After I transformed," said Tony. He imagined Bruce walking up to him, his tiny pink form against the massive bulk of the werewolf. Bruce's damn-near immortality aside, the idea scared the shit out of him _._ "Are you insane?"

"Is it really any different when you approached the Hulk after the battle in New York?"

Tony pursed his lips.

Bruce sighed. "Hulk and I ran after you last night and found you. I convinced Paws that everything was fine, that I wasn't mad and didn't blame you. Now you've got to accept that or we're never going to move on from this."

"Oh, so I've just got to accept that when my heart rate went up my body started to turn you into a piece of Swiss cheese?"

"Tony-"

 _"No,_ Bruce, you can't just say it's okay because it's not. I hurt you and that will _never_ be okay."

"And if our relationship had somehow reached this point without you becoming a werewolf? What then? What if I'd transformed when we were kissing and I broke your arm or worse. What then, Tony? How would this conversation be going?"

Tony thought about it. It wasn't a great stretch to imagine the two of them together under different circumstances. Sure, Tony had had Pepper but they were cooling off fast after the New York battle - something to do with Tony being an utter ass that had no sense of self preservation, if he recalled most of their arguments correctly. And he'd always thought Bruce was hot, and had on more than one occasion found himself wanting to fondle his notebook. Eventually they might have made a connection. And Bruce would probably have shut him down because the Hulk was _dangerous_ and he might hurt Tony and he didn't deserve him and all that crap.

 _Basically the same argument you're about to throw at him, Stark,_ he thought, and dropped his head. "It would be the same."

"So don't worry about it. I'm not mad, it's okay, you couldn't help it." Bruce tapped his fingers on his knees.

"I just don't understand _why_ it happened," said Tony. "The wolf likes you too. Why wouldn't it have just let me, y'know..."

Bruce chuckled. "Hulk liked Betty and he still tried to make a guest appearance once. Tony, I already told you - it's the adrenaline. The wolf won't be able to help it, it's all chemistry."

"How did the werewolves on Asgard do it then?" he grumbled, pulling a stem of grass from the ground like it had done him some personal injury.

"Probably in their other form, at least until they could control it."

Tony wrinkled his nose. "Ew."

Bruce shrugged. "Why? It's their kind. No weirder than two wolves rutting in the forest."

"It's not a mental image I wanted to conjure with you."

Bruce threw his head back and laughed. Tony smiled, enjoying the way it echoed around the trees and off the rocks. His laughter sparked a well of contentment in his chest and he reached out and took Bruce's hand. Bruce was still chuckling when he looked back at him, squeezing his hand.

"I just want to be with you," said Tony, his tone dour.

Bruce squeezed his fingers harder. "I know."

They both fell quiet. The wind blew through the trees, rustling the leaves in quiet whispers, shifting the grass. Tony's eyes couldn't stop moving, focusing on every moment - a stem bent in the breeze, a beetle crawling up a stone. Bruce was gazing up at the sky looking content. Tony couldn't remember Bruce being so peaceful before, exuding a cloud of calming pheromones. Tony had slept for god only knew how long, but he found himself able to relax, wanted to curl with him in the grass and sleep awhile yet.

After awhile he had to know _why_ Bruce was feeling the way he was. It didn't add up or make sense - Tony claws Bruce, Hulk chases Tony down, both of them fall asleep together. They couldn't go further in a relationship than holding hands, which had Tony seriously down in the dumps, and yet Bruce was all Zen or whatever the hippies were calling it.

He shuffled closer, minding the way the bare ground was digging into his skin ( _have to find a way to keep emergency clothes on hand after transformation. Flying Jarvis enabled 'bot?_ ) and leaned into Bruce, intent on invading his personal space to the point where Bruce might snap out of it.

"What?" asked Bruce, looking down at Tony's face, which was now lying on one of his legs.

"Just wondering why you're so damn calm."

Bruce smiled and reached out, brushing Tony's bangs back. Tony closed his eyes and resisted the urge to purr at the soothing contact.

"I made contact with Hulk last night. We came to something of an understanding. I think I'll need to do more meditating on it, but..." Bruce grinned, "But I don't think transformations are going to be difficult in the future. 'I've got a lid on it,' as you always say."

Tony wasn't going to pretend he wasn't insanely jealous over this. "Well at least one of us has. Do you remember what happened?"

Bruce nodded. "I remember everything, although it's admittedly blurry - Hulk processes sensory input differently than a human being. We shared a body for the first time. It was freeing. And when we found you we ran together, hunted together-"

"Hunted?" asked Tony.

"Uh, yeah. I mean, Hulk didn't partake, but," he pointed across the clearing.

Tony followed the line of his finger to the southernmost point of the glade. A carcass was hidden from view amongst some deep tree roots. All he could see was one slender, tawny leg extending from whatever was concealed from view.

"Oh," he said, feeling his skin crawl, and if his stomach hadn't felt so glaringly empty he might have vomited. He settled for a gag and a full body shudder. "Isn't that... nice."

"Wolves eat what they eat," Bruce shrugged. "At least it wasn't road kill."

 _Or human,_ thought Tony with another shudder. He twisted back and forth trying to see if he was covered in blood. He looked at Bruce. "Am I bloody?"

"Nope," said Bruce, ruffling his hair again. "Paws took a quick dip in the stream before he laid down to go to sleep. Then Hulk joined him, and then we woke up."

They lay together in the grass awhile longer, discussing on how to get to the villa. Bruce figured with Tony's increased agility it wouldn't take him long to jog back, and Bruce could use the Hulk to extend his speed if the big guy was okay with it. They both had a laugh, imagining if they came across some hikers and what it would look like for them to see Tony Stark running naked in the woods with a green tinged man hot on his heels. Bruce was giggling - _giggling,_ Tony was never going to let him forget it - and his head tilted over, face scrunched up. It made Tony think of a Muppet and he let out a shout of laughter. He was too cute, and he leaned over and kissed him.

Bruce froze for a second, then kissed him back, reaching up and running his fingers through Tony's hair. The contact sent a pulse of heat along his spine and Tony stiffened, his heart jumped, and Bruce pulled away. Tony did _not_ whimper as Bruce traced his lower lip with his thumb. And it certainly wasn't fair that Tony felt like wolf ears were poised to jump out of his hair at any moment.

There was a crackle down wind and Tony froze, his left ear twitched towards the sound, and every muscle went tight and rigid.

"Tony?" Bruce asked, still smiling.

There was another crackle and he was rolling, launching up in a spray of earth. Bruce yelped, but Tony was already over top of him, one hand raised, ready to defend or attack, whatever was required. A growl rumbled up from his stomach and into his throat.

Bruce's hand was on his neck but he ignored it. The wolf was in the back of his mind, alert and wary. Tony took a deep breath, digging his fingers into the dirt. He ignored Bruce's words as he focused on the mass of leaves ahead of him, trying to pierce the shadows.

The snaps were getting louder and louder, a massive shadow was barreling through the trees. Tony's growl rose in pitch, heat burned under his skin. A prickling sensation rolled down his back, he could feel his feet expanding.

The figure crashed out of the trees and Tony took a hard gulp of air, his body felt like he'd been electrocuted as he registered who he was looking at.

"Woah, boys. What's going on here?" demanded Natasha, who was piggy backing on Steve. They were both dressed in hiking gear.

"Uhhh..." Steve's face flushed red and he turned away.

"Hi guys," Bruce waved. "Tony, relax. Deep breaths."

Tony felt his hand on his collarbone and he let out a slow breath. He glanced at his hands, at the long fingernails dug into the dirt. "Way to announce yourself guys."

Natasha slid off of Steve's back and unstrapped her backpack. "Not our fault Paws is a bit overprotective of Bruce. Now, not that I don't enjoy the sight of you two on top of each other, but I think you're going to break Steve, so I'd prefer it if you covered up."

"With what, Anastasia," said Tony, rolling off of Bruce.

She tossed a bundle at them. "Sort it out, I don't need to look at your dick anymore," she said. "I told Bruce I was coming."

"No one was making you stare," said Tony, standing up and facing her while he put on a shirt. He wasn't about to hide himself. In his opinion, when you were packing the sort of hardware he was, modesty was for chumps.

She rolled her eyes. "Alright, put on underwear for Steve's benefit."

"Psh."

Bruce was already dressed. "By which he means, 'thank-you for the clothing Natasha and Steve."

Tony rolled his eyes as he buttoned up the pair of jeans she'd tossed him. "There, dressed. No need to look away, Captain V-Card."

Steve turned back around. He looked like he wanted to say something but was biting his lip. Natasha groaned, rubbing her temples. "It's too early for your alpha male bullshit. What is your problem?"

Tony turned to her. "Wouldn't be a problem if he knew his damn place."

"Ex _cuse_ me? My place?" Steve stood up straighter. "Tony  you've been being a Grade A dick since you've been bitten. I've been waiting, I've been patient, but you refuse to back down."

"I don't have to," said Tony, clenching his fists. "It's not my fault you don't just accept your spot."

"My _spot?_ This isn't a fucking wolf pack, Tony. We're a team."

Tony bared his teeth. "Yeah, and who died and made you leader? Let's go a few rounds, old man."

"Tony stop it," Bruce warned from behind him.

"No, this asshole thinks he's my fucking boss. He's wrong. He's an old relic of my fathers, and I'm sick of him trying to fucking-"

 _"TONY!"_ Bruce's voice had changed to something gravelly and deep, and he felt a jerk from behind his navel. It wasn't physical, but the force of his voice made him drop to his knees. He sucked in a hard breath wondering where the fuck _that_ had come from. He wanted to look at Bruce but he couldn't lift his head. He could feel the wolf there, and it was forcing him down with it.

There was a crunch, and Bruce was next to him, lifting up his head. His heart was hammering in his chest but he couldn't move. It wasn't like he was frozen, but he didn't want to move, couldn't find the urge.

Bruce's eyes were poison green, and he could see the colour starting to surface around his eyes and the ridges of his ears. "You will stop this now. This is beyond ridiculous, Tony."

He felt a growl in his throat. "But he-"

He didn't have time to breathe as Bruce pivoted and slammed him into the grass. _"No._ Steve is our leader. I look to him for guidance. You will do the same."

Tony swallowed. Bruce was right, he was being a dick about everything. He nodded, and Bruce removed his hand, and he didn't fail to notice the green tinge around the beds of his fingernails. He sat up, and with a lot of effort, forced himself to look Steve in the eyes. "I'm sorry. I'll stop being such an asshole. We cool?" He couldn't hold it longer than that and looked away.

"Yeah," said Steve. He walked over and held out his hand. Tony regarded it for a moment. Things weren't actually _cool,_ per se. But he was going to make an effort not to be a bitch. It wasn't making anyone happier, especially not Bruce. Bruce said he followed Steve, so that had to be good enough for Tony, even if he thought it was complete bullshit. And Steve was genuinely worried about him, worried about the entire team.

He reached up, and although it made his skin crawl a little, he let Steve help him to his feet. He resisted the urge to wipe his hand off - every piece of his mind was rebelling at submitting to Steve, but he had to accept it. He looked around. "So how'd you get out here? Does Clint have a quad he's never mentioned?"

"Ran. Steve's my ride," said Natasha, and Tony had to shove his fist in his mouth and curl over, sure that one of his ribs was going to crack under the strain of ignoring the innuendo. Steve flushed red. "He's actually pretty quick."

"I was wondering about that," said Bruce. "But why not Thor? I mean, he can _fly."_

"He's helping Clint fix the door he pounded," said Natasha, smiling. "C'mon, let's make tracks."

"So, you two have kind of a _Twilight_ thing going on now," Bruce smirked as Natasha walked over to Steve and swung up and straddled him, piggy back style.

"If you're insinuating I'm the empty-headed female lead..." Even perched like a child on Steve's back Natasha looked deadly.

"Alright, stop. No more fighting. Not if you want me to concentrate on running out of here and not 'wolfing out," said Tony, taking a deep breath.

"I like 'Pawsing," said Bruce fondly. _"Hulk like too,"_ he said in a rumbling voice. Tony noticed he was going green about the hands and face. He grinned, and Bruce's answering smile was almost manic with glee.

"Race you," he challenged, Bruce's eyes flashed, and they both plunged into the trees.

`~+0+~`

Agent Reid walked along the shore of Lake Como towards a dock licking a vanillia ice cream. He was dressed in casual civilian clothes that would label him as a tourist, and was carrying a bag with filled with beach things, his .9 mil and radio stowed within a hefty towel. Just a harmless American out sightseeing.

He stopped by the entrance, taking a good look. It was a private dock - a little stone house was perched on the edge of the lake. He'd been there before, a long time ago in another lifetime. Whistling to himself, he jogged down the stone steps and onto the docks. There were a few little dory's tied up with tarps over them, and a other wooden boats beached on the sand. In the distance he could see a larger power boat angling towards where he was standing.

He waited, finishing his ice cream cone as he watched. He could see the passengers on the boat looking confused as they grew closer.  He doubted he'd be well received - it was a private dock - but he only had a few questions.

The boat pulled up beside the dock which jostled and creaked with the wake. He smiled blankly at them as they shouted in Italian, pretending he didn't understand. The passengers were a man and wife, both suntanned from work. The man threw a rope over the side of the boat and it hit the dock with a heavy thump. The wife jumped nimbly out after it and started to tie it to the mooring.

"What do you want?" barked the man in heavily accented English.

"Oh, just curious if you guys have any dock space up for rent."

"No," said the man gruffly.

The woman stood, brushing hair from her eyes. "You look familiar."

"This is actually my first trip to Lake Como," he said, "it's very beautiful. I was looking for someone to take me on a boating tour, actually. I heard of this gorgeous villa, _Villa del All'alba,_ and someone mentioned it was possible to go and-"

"No," said the man. "That area is private."

"Really? Does someone live there?"

The woman nodded. "Yes. And they like their privacy. This is a private dock. Please leave."

Reid bowed his head. "Sorry to have bothered you. I'll be on my way."

He checked his watch. Ross was in the country already and chomping at the bit to move in. Reid knew he only had so much time left before they had to pinpoint their location and move in. He glanced back once, smiling and waving at the couple who merely stared back. He'd suspected they were staying at Hawkeye's secret home before, but between a visual confirmation and the couple he knew.

It had already been two days. So far they were still in negotiations with the Weapon X Department. The current director had offered to send one of their assassins but the last thing Reid wanted was a massacre. He'd read the reports on X-23 and didn't need something that volatile running loose. Ross,  however, was adamant about it.

Back at his car he checked his phone - a message from Ross. Probably insisting on doing the attack that night, but Reid would convince him to wait a little longer, enough for the lot of them to get complacent. Enough for the legendary Agent Barton to doubt what he saw.

He put the car into drive. He needed a map.

`~+0+~`

Clint met them at the rusted open gate at the edge of the grounds. Bruce noted that the gardeners had attempted to salvage what they could from the damage his and Tony's exits had made, and a lot of grass seed had been spread on the patches of new soil.

"Safe and sound?" Clint asked as the three of them came to a stop in the grounds.

Natasha slipped nimbly off of Steve's back and walked past Clint. "It wasn't too much of a problem. Two naked guys, a bit of rough and tumble, and here we are."

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Riiight. Oh, and Tony? Your computer started beeping and taking over the TV. What the hell did you do?"

Tony grinned. "Really? Jarvis took over the network? SWEET! He's ready! Oh Clint, I could _kiss_ you."

"How 'bout you don't? I hate dog breath."

Bruce snorted in laughter. Tony was too elated by Jarvis's progress to even get riled up and he was off and running for the house as fast as he could

"So what does that mean?" asked Clint.

"It means that we can use Jarvis to break down Tony's T-cells virtually and integrate a lentivirus into the genome of his cells to make them kill the lycanthropy, and we can run computer trials to see if it will even work."

Clint blinked. "Okay, English?"

"We're going to amp up Tony's immune system and turn his T-cells into homing missiles. It'll kill the virus and stop him from being contagious."

Clint nodded. "I'm cool with that. Maybe not with 'ghost in the machine' Jarvis, but definitely with a cure."

"It's not a cure," said Bruce. "He's mutated. Like me." He tried not to let the old bitterness in his voice, especially not now that he and the Hulk understood each other better. But it was going to take awhile. He had a lot of years of pain to work past.

"Also, I'm sorry about your door, but I don't really have spares lying around, so your room isn't all that private anymore."

Bruce shrugged. "I don't think that will be an issue." He didn't add that he'd probably be bunking with Tony from now on, but when he remembered the glint of silver in Tony's eyes when Bruce had stroked his lip earlier he frowned. It really wasn't going to take much to set Tony off. He was used to being chaste. It came with the territory. But he wasn't sure he could hold off when it came to Tony. He _wanted_ him, wanted to hold him, to kiss him, to take him apart and have Tony take him apart. It had taken years before he could have sex with someone. And now he was falling _hard_ and he could do nothing.

Clint patted his back, like he knew what was going on in Bruce's head. Bruce just sighed.

"What's it like?" asked Clint after a moment, pausing with him near the door that lead into the kitchen.

Bruce glanced at him. "How do you mean?"

"Well... knowing there's someone else like you. Knowing you're not the only one anymore."

Bruce stared at him. He hadn't really thought about it. Well, that was a lie, he _had._ But he didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to separate himself from humanity, not like that. "I guess, yeah. It is nice."

Clint nodded. "Good. I hope things work out for you guys."

"Me too," said Bruce. "Hey, um, how's the whole thing going with you? I mean, thinking you saw Coulson and stuff."

Clint's face went dark. "I know I saw him, but... I hope I didn't. The implications..."

Bruce didn't respond. Fury would have to answer to a lot of angry people if he'd hidden Coulson from them. And it also meant they weren't safe. Not here, probably not anywhere. He still had his contingency plans, though, whether or not the others were aware of them.

Tony came barrelling into the kitchen, his face manic with excitement. "He's running, Bruce! He's still being a whiney bitch, but he's running! Sampling port is working and everything!"

Bruce smiled at Clint. "Well, science to do, diseases to cure."

"Good luck," said Clint, as Bruce was dragged from the room.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Action heavy, pardon if it's bad!!

Bruce was nodding off over Jarvis, eyes getting heavy. He glanced at the open window, noticed that the afternoon had given way to night at some point. He hadn't noticed. Bruce and Tony hadn't had any sleep since they'd returned from the forest, instead spending their time digitally breaking down Tony's genes and T-Cells, as well as different virus's, trying to find some way to turn his own antibodies against the _ulfhedinn_ pathogen. Jarvis was doing the best he could with the memory he had, but the going was still slow. _Still,_ he thought, rubbing his eyes again, _we've got some really workable data now._

He entered another variation to Tony's cells with a different lentivirus, doing his best not to screw up any of the data, and yawned, wondering if there was any caffeine around. He glanced back at Tony who was lounging on the couch, blinking heavily and looking extremely bored. Bruce chuckled. For the first few hours Tony's eyes had been light up like a dog with a new toy, but the more failed simulations had run, the more Tony had become depressed.

Bruce turned in the chair to face him. Tony's eyelids forced themselves apart after a moment. "Mm?"

Bruce smiled. "You're ready to pass out too?"

Tony nodded, groaning as he pushed himself up. "I need some coffee. Whose idea was it not to put an espresso machine in here because we need to have words with them. Serious, strong words. I'm sure I could sue the pants off of them for it."

Bruce knew he should suggest the two of them catching a few hours of sleep, but he knew that would go over like a lead balloon. He wasn't exactly keen on stopping either - not when they were potentially so close.

Tony stood up, cracking his back. "Tea for you?"

Bruce nodded, rubbing at his eyes. He remembered Clint mentioning there being some leftover fruit salad or something. The thought made his stomach rumble. "See if there's anything to eat down there too, while you're at it."

When Tony didn't reply he looked up to see him staring intently out the window. He frowned. "What is it?"

Tony shook his head after a moment, blinking like he was coming out of a daze. "I thought I smelled something." He turned away from the window and smiled apologetically as he headed for the hallway.

Bruce watched Tony leave the room, scratching at his arc reactor and yawning heavily as he walked in a heavy footed shuffle. He smiled, turned back to the computer to watch the flickering simulation, hoping that perhaps soon they'd get a break through. He heard  a soft _phut_ and blinked as something flew through his periphery. He turned his head at the sound of a crack and sat up in surprise to see a small circle with a flashing red light in the centre imbedded into the stone wall.

Bruce didn't bother yelling or running as the blinking grew faster. He forced himself to remain in a state of calm as he yanked the StarkTech phone with all the backup data from Jarvis. He got up, vaulted over the computer desk, and lunged for the half-closed closet just as the final flash of red crested in a blaze of light and sound.

`~+0+~`

Natasha followed Clint while they walked on patrol, both in their SHIELD uniforms. Clint's constant unease had made her start to feel nervous as well and she took to wearing hers just in case they needed to react fast.

Natasha wanted to move on as much as the others seemed to. The quinjet had been on lock down for a few days. Clint's contacts at the airfield claimed they were under Interpol scrutiny and all aircraft were grounded, but both she and Clint were certain that it was too much of a coincidence. So far they were resisting the urge to go to the airfield themselves and investigate.

"If we're still grounded tomorrow we're just going to have to go in and take her out, even if we have to sweep the airfield," said Clint.

Natasha nodded in agreement. It was too difficult to procure vehicles to transport all of their things and keep anonymous as civilians. Moving by car was out of the question, especially when you were travelling with two celebrities and a highly noticeable demigod.

"We should tell the others to be ready," said Natasha. "I don't think anyone will have a problem if we have to move tomorrow."

"Bruce will ask to let him run with Tony again," said Clint, sounding bitter.

She glanced at him. "What makes you think so?"

"When I was fixing the door with Thor and cleaning up the mess I found a packed bag full of fake id's and cash, and extra clothes."

It wasn't exactly something that she and Clint didn't often keep on hand, but she knew it meant Bruce still had an exit strategy in the wings. Still, she couldn't blame him. Being on the run and stuck in one spot was probably wreaking havoc on him. He probably felt extremely exposed, even with all of the precautions they'd been taking.

Natasha was glad to be leaving soon. At first the Villa had been refreshing, but now images of Coulson seemed to peek out from every corner. Coulson had been one of the ones to deprogram her, and in her worry about him some of the old nightmares had even begun to resurface. She shivered. It would be good to go somewhere else.

 

The two of them walked out into the yard. Thor was sitting on the bench looking meditative, staring at the sky. Natasha had heard him talk about the different planets he could see from Asgard and wondered if he found their sky with its single moon boring in comparison.

Clint called to him and Thor turned, nodded at them with a wide smile. "Doing your nightly rounds?"

"Yeah," said Clint.

"Is it a Midgardian celebration this evening?"

Clint shook his head. "Why?"

Thor pointed. Over the water something like a flare went flying high. It burst in cascade of pops, green and red sparks flying. She smiled. "Someone must be having a party."

"Your fireworks are simple, but no less beautiful," said Thor. "On Asgard, during our celebrations, they light the sky like comets, waves of great and beautiful magic spreading like your aurora's."

Something pulled her gaze over, the sound of a motor. It wasn't uncommon for people to boat at all hours, and it wasn't exactly late. It was possible some people were heading for a clear view of the fireworks.

The flashing of lights between the trees at the edge of the lake, however, made her tense. It wasn't boaters, it wasn't tourists.

Natasha fumbled for her gun, a warning on her lips just as a set of explosions burst along the side of the villa in a bloom of fire and masonry and light.

She staggered back for cover, ears ringing, the side of her face hot. She was trying not to think of potential casualties, of the possibility of Tony turning into the wolf or Bruce turning into the Hulk against his will.

"Nat, are you alright?"

"Fine!" she yelled as bullets peppered the lawn, sending up puffs of dirt. Artillery fire flashed through the trees, the explosions loud and regular. Another light, this time purple, from the fireworks.

 _They're a distraction,_ she thought.

Natasha slipped behind the stone wall of the fountain. Clint was next to her, his bow already out, and he was pulling an arrow from his quiver as Thor yelled, his hand raised. She heard a crack of glass as Mjolnir flashed through the air towards them.

"Ross," said Clint, unnecessarily. It certainly wasn't a greeting party from Nick Fury.

Natasha pulled her 9 mm's off of her hips and snapped off the safety's.

"Hollows?" asked Clint.

"Frangibles," she replied, shifting over to get a good look at what was available. Natasha wished she had something a little bigger, like her 50 calibre sniper so she could eliminate targets at a safe distance. She wasn't cut out for warfare.

Clint whistled. "I'm not sure that will penetrate their vests."

"It'll penetrate their legs," she replied.

Thor dropped next to them, his face dark. He looked strange, wielding Mjolnir without his armour. "They will be easy targets," he said. "They do not know what they are dealing with."

"We don't know what we're dealing with," said Clint, fitting another arrow to his bow. He was squinting into the bushes. "I'm not recognizing the weaponry they're carrying. Be careful, Thunderbird."

Soldiers began to appear at the edge of the yard, stepping out of the trees. Natasha frowned at them. While a few were equipped with P-90's, most of them were carrying unfamiliar, almost alien weaponry that put Natasha uncomfortably in mind with the Chitauri.

One of the weapons trained on their hiding place, the barrel separating, glowing blue. "Shit!" Natasha swore, spinning away just as a blue flash of plasma fired from the end of the rifle and struck  the lawn nearby, sending up a plume of dirt, debris and a wave of hot air.

Clint was heading in the opposite direction, towards the house. "They're using phase 2 tech!" he yelled, loosing an arrow. It found its mark in one soldier's throat and a blue bolt of plasma went wild, striking the side of the villa.

"Be careful, Thor, those were designed with Asgardians in mind!" she said, opening fire. Two bullets missed but the third made sure another soldier wasn't getting up again.

"I fear them not," said Thor, hefting Mjolnir. He swung, striking a bolt of plasma, and it ricocheted, hitting the water of the fountain with a hiss and plume of steam and spitting water.

Four more soldiers stepped into the yard, these carrying smaller weapons. Natasha recognized these, had helped with R&D creating augmented blades that could help against aliens, made from leftover metal from the Chitauri. Those were sharp enough that even Thor could be hurt with them.

"Put them down, Clint!" she yelled, but she wasn't sure her voice carried amongst the sounds of bullets and blasts from the phase two guns. She took a deep breath, narrowing her eyes, and unloaded the rest of her clip on him. All four bullets struck, one in the arm, three in the chest, but he stayed standing.

"Oh," she breathed, when he looked her way. She was using frangibles, she knew even with a bullet proof vest there should have been some penetration. The muscles in his arm should have been nothing more than bloody pulp, but he hadn't even cried out.

He turned to face her while the other soldiers went for Thor and Clint.

Natasha turned on her widow's bite and fumbled for her other clips. "There's something wrong with those ones!" she called. The soldier ran for her - he was too fast, impossibly fast - and somewhere the Hulk roared and a wolf howled.

`~+0+~`

Steve was drifting into a mindless haze of punching. The slap of his knuckles on the canvas, the burn of his muscles, the sweat on his temples, the shift of the sand inside of the bag. It was soothing to lose himself, to just _strike and strike and strike._ He had so much on his mind sparring was the only way to calm it.

Ever since he and Tony had come to a truce in the woods Tony had been acting like a demure but aggressive dog. Steve wished there was something - _anything -_ he could do that would help Tony see past the instincts that were making him behave that way. Sure, before the accident he and Tony might not have been friends, certainly not the way he and Howard had been, but they were friendly enough. Something about the wolf, though, completely resented his authority in leading the Avengers.

The punching bag twisted on its chain and swayed as Steve slammed his fist into it particularly hard. He let out a breath, resting his hands against it, trying to think.

He had always liked dogs, but before he'd been injected dogs hadn't always seemed to like him. He wondered if it were still a case of _something_ lingering from before that made Tony go all 'Alpha Male' on him.

He shook his fists out and resumed punching. Whatever the problem, he'd have to find a way to prove himself. Bruce took orders from him, just like everyone else, and Bruce certainly couldn't lead the group when he had to transform into the Hulk.

He paused again, gasping. _Would Tony even still be a member of the Avengers?_ He remembered Bruce saying something, a few weeks ago, about Tony's newfound claustrophobia. Add it into the heat of battle, the pounding of adrenaline and being wounded, could he even be Iron Man anymore?

He'd have to talk to Tony about it, somehow.

Steve started to unwrap his hands. He wanted a shower, wanted to think about this a little more. He'd broach it to Tony and Bruce in the morning, find out if they'd gotten anywhere with their meditating on finding a solution to the adrenaline problem. He felt very badly for them, actually, being so restricted in their relationship. Contrary to popular belief, Steve didn't have anything against same sex relationships. Sure, he'd been raised in a protestant family, but he also had raised himself to believe people made their own choices and had the right to live by them.

He went to the window of the gym and stared at the yard. His mind was too full, he had to unwind. Even working out hadn't helped.

He stretched, reaching high over his head. A shower, he'd get into some books Bruce had recommended, and he'd see if Clint had any cocoa powder lying around. He smiled to himself, about to turn away and head for his room, when he noticed movement beyond the back gate.

 _Looks like flashlights,_ he thought, wondering why the others would be searching the woods. Then he saw the small, yellow burst of suppressed artillery fire.

"INTRUDERS!" he yelled, turning. He'd taken to keeping his shield with him, and he was glad of it now.

A moment later a series of explosions rocked the villa, knocking him to his hands and knees. He hit the stone floor hard, mouth dry. _How many casualties?_ he wondered. Not everyone could survive a blast.

He forced himself up and ran for his shield.

`~+0+~`

Tony was about halfway down the hall when he heard the faint crunch from behind him. He wasn't going to turn around, but he caught the sound of Bruce's heartbeat. He was always aware of it. It was a way to keep tabs, and the steady sound was comforting on many levels. Something was wrong, though. Instead of the steady 75bpm it began to spike. Something had scared him.

"Bruce?" Tony called, just as the door exploded in a blaze of debris and orange light, followed by the wave of heat.

His body felt like it had been slapped into the wall, and he hit the ground hard. Something was burning in his side, sending pain cresting up into his chest and down his legs. A sickly push of warmth welled under his skin as the wolf started to rise up inside of him.

 _Bruce,_ he thought, struggling to roll over, trying to keep a grip on his thoughts, but everything was like film, moving slower instead of faster, until it was all just single frames of perception. He bit back the animalistic growl in his throat as pain spiked up his side, burning from the inside. He looked down to see a piece of wood imbedded deep into his stomach

He snarled, closing his hand around it, and yanked it free. Blood spurted out of the gash in a torrent but the wound was already closing after it. He rolled, hands expanding, claws digging into the floor. He wanted to yell Bruce's name but it was caught in his throat, canines growing in.

He looked up to see several soldiers in black uniform exit the stairwell. He felt his lips peel back as he growled in warning, the wolf rising and pressing up inside of his chest as Tony fought for consciousness. The soldiers raised their guns, yelling in alarm. Bruce was somewhere nearby, hurting, needed help.

_Protect our alpha._

A sudden surge of anger and the need to kill flooded his system. His joints were snapping as he ran forward. He felt the impacts as hypodermic needles riddled his chest but it was too late. His frame expanded, clothes tightened, and he leapt, pouncing on the closest one. He could feel the sedative slowing his body down, trying to make it resist the change, to become human again, but his anger pushed back with the adrenaline in his blood. He needed to protect what was his.

There was a snap of bone and Tony shrieked in anger as he twisted and pulled, felt cartilage and limbs twisting, snapping, giving way as the soldier died underneath of him. The other was already running but it didn't matter.

The thing that was both Tony and the Wolf leapt after him, slammed him into the stone wall. He tasted hot blood and tissue as teeth found the soldiers throat.

`~+0+~`

Reid ran up to the waiting helicopter once the green light was given from the landing party. His operatives were taking the Quinjet from the airfield where the Avengers had hidden it, and his troops would already be sweeping the villa. He'd wanted  a few more days but Ross had been adamant, and he hadn't been able to persuade the WSC to see things his way.

"What's the situation?" he demanded as the _Chinook's_ blades started to spin. The closest airman saluted and followed him up the ramp.

"Ground troops have been deployed and the Avengers have been engaged. According to incoming radio transmissions they have found Agent's Romanoff and Barton and the god Thor. No word yet on Captain Rogers or the primary targets, sir."

Reid nodded. "Is the other strike team sweeping the villa?"

"Yes sir. We believe we'll have confirmation of engagement of the primary targets and Captain Rogers any time. The Hulk and the werewolf haven't been spotted yet, sir."

Reid frowned. He'd followed them last night and wondered how far they'd made it. It had been extremely tricky to get in close where he couldn't be spotted, and had lost them completely after the incident in the clearing.

"Tony Stark confirmed in the villa," said Major Sparr from her spot at one of the monitors. Ross was leaning over the back of the chair.

"Move more troops in on his position. Make sure they're careful. Wherever he is, Banner's sure to be close by," said Ross.

Reid took his spot. "Let's deploy the rest of the airmen. Send in squad's four and five. Have the Augments been sent in yet?"

"Affirmative," said Major Sparr. "Xray, Zulu, you are clear for entry. Are the Augments in position?"

 _"Affirmative, Major!"_ was the crackling reply.

Reid was nervous about using the Augments, but the WSC had been obstinate about utilizing them. They were the 'lenders' from the Weapon X platform. They'd secured permission from Ross's division to utilize the failed Super Soldier serum Banner had tried to devise and injected baseline mutants. The result was something that was a threat even to Thor.

"What is the status of the other squads?"

"Three down in squad one, four in squad two.... six down in squad three. Sierra, what is your status?"

_"Hit hard by something big, sir!"_

Reid looked up at the sound of an enraged roar. "Has the Hulk been spotted?"

_"Affirmative!"_

Reid turned to look at Ross. "Looks like your plan to knock him out failed, General. You should have waited, as I recommended."

General Ross leaned over the monitor. "We've got four Augments, and another eight in the wings. That should be _plenty_ to keep the Hulk busy. Besides, Banner is our secondary target. We need Stark. Deploy the second fireteam of Augments!"

"Yes sir!"

`~+0+~`

Steve climbed the stairs two at a time. Three soldier's rounded the corner, took aim, and he raised the shield. The sound of the bullets was too loud in the small space, stone cracked as the ricochets landed in stone. One of the soldiers was hit with his own bullet, Steve ploughed into the second, thrusting with his Shield hard, knocking him unconscious.

"I'll take that, son," he said, yanking the P-90 from the hands of the still conscious soldier. "You just rest." The last fell with a heavy crack. Steve cocked the gun, advancing slower, eyes wary for movement.

There was a yell, a rapid burst of fire. Steve tensed at the sound of an agonized scream. _I really hope that's not because of Tony,_ he thought.

 Steve stepped into the hall where Bruce and Tony kept their lab. Fire was smouldering and he couldn't see where the scream had come from, the hallway was completely empty. From there the sound of bullets and explosions was louder.

 _Please let Tony recognize me,_ he thought in a quick prayer as he advanced. Steve didn't want to become a werewolf, or die.

A snap through a door on his right made him turn his head. It seemed to be ground zero, and Steve leapt over a pile of rubble, landing in the remains of Bruce and Tony's temporary lab space.

A guttural sound of pain made him bring up his shield in defence.

Across from the twisted remains of the desk and computer Bruce writhed on the ground, coughing, groaning. Swelling fingers dragged through the cracks along the floor.

"Bruce?" he asked, advancing slow.

Bruce jerked up, his mouth open in a silent yell, slamming into the wall. Bruce grunted, teeth bared, jaw clenched as his clothes grew tight.

"Bruce, it's going to be okay, just - uh, just, calm down, Bruce-"

Bruce turned, slammed his fist into the ground. His eyes were a poisonous green, full of rage. "Not. Ban. Ergh." The words sounded like crunching gravel.

"Bruce-"

 _"Not... BANNER!"_ His body jerked again, spittle flew, landing in the dust.

Steve stepped back. "Hulk?"

He growled, turned his head with what seemed like a painful movement, and snatched something up and out of the debris. Steve was ready for something to come flying his way, but instead Hulk dragged himself, his muscles straining against skin that was more tan than green. Spit foamed at his mouth, and he stretched out his hand.

Steve watched his fingers unfold to reveal... a phone. He blinked, surprised, wondering where the it had even come from.

"Get. To. Bet. Eeyy," Hulk forced out through clenched teeth, and Steve wasn't sure if it were him or Banner.

He picked up the phone, which looked relatively unharmed. "Betty?" he repeated.

Hulk jerked his head, groaned as he expanded even larger, shirt ripping off of his frame. _"CURE!"_ he snarled.

Hulk blinked, his eyes turning brown in his broad face. A flit of fear passed over his expression. "STEVE RUN! _RUN! NnnngaAAH!"_ Veins stood out on his neck as Bruce threw his head back, body wracked with pain. The fleeting second of Bruce passed, Hulk took control, and he snarled as his body expanded even faster, unhindered.

"Oh shit," said Steve, turning to run, shoving the phone in his pocket.

Steve turned to see a bulky, shaggy silhouette in the hall. Silver eyes flashed, Steve's mouth went dry, and he brought up his shield just as the shadow lunged for him.

`~+0+~`

Natasha tried to dodge as the soldier closed in, thrusting with their knife. The knife bit air, but when she caught his wrist, prepared to flip him, they turned and with impossible speed brought their other arm around and struck her.

She hissed in pain, hitting the ground as stars flashed before her eyes. She'd thought the Chitauri packed a punch.

"Wow," she said, spitting a bloody wad of saliva. "Is that how it's going to be?"

The soldier said nothing. She noticed in the dim light she saw his nametag - Cpt. Morrison, next to a steel X. She snarled, ready for the next thrust. She twisted out of the way, leapt to her feet. She wasn't going to go down because of this person, not now, not ever. She'd seen too much to get taken out by a mutant. Not after facing the Hulk.

She caught his elbow, driving her finger into his pressure point, and wrapped her legs around his neck. She shifted her weight down, suspended by her knees, and drove her fist into the back of his neck, the Widow's bite crackling as it deployed. The soldier's body jerked, he cried out in surprise, and she pushed off, twisting to the ground.

Natasha expected him to hit the ground twitching, but he came back up, rushed her. Morrison brought his knee up in a simple, easy to block kick, but she was taken off guard by its bone crushing strength. Something snapped, pain spiked up her side, and she hit the ground hard.

Morrison grabbed her by the hair, yanking her up. She caught his other wrist before he dragged the blade across her throat, twisted and kicked up into his mid section.

 _"CLINT!"_ she shrieked, twisted. Pain burst on her scalp, he had a handful of hair as she fell back to the ground. "You _fuck,"_ she snarled, shoving her other hand against his soft stomach, the widow's bite deployed again and he jerked, hitting the ground.

There was a pop and a burst of blood. She gasped as the spray hit her in the chest, flecked her cheeks. The soldier went down, twitching. An arrow protruded from his neck. The soldier struggled, tried to force himself up, when another arrow struck him in the temple and they dropped.

She looked up to see Clint, his own attacker a pincushion.

"Thanks," she mouthed, tried to force herself to her feet, and cried out in pain as her side throbbed. _Broken ribs,_ she thought, feeling dazed.

Thor smashed the last of his opponents, cut up and looking worse for wear himself. Another group of Weapon X soldiers burst from the trees, all carrying Phase 2 weaponry and blades.

"Shit," she swore, knee buckling, and snatched up her gun from the grass, pressed the recharge to her widow's bite with her thumb. "We got incoming!" she yelled, raising her gun and taking aim.

`~+0+~`

Claws scratched and skittered over the surface of his shield as a huge weight descended on him and knocked him to the ground, body scraping across the debris. Steve cried out, pushing up, but the wolf was strong, too strong. He turned his head as teeth snapped, glistening white and _sharp._

"Tony, it's me! Remember me!" Steve's stomach was tight. After what had happened in the forest he half thought that maybe the wolf would have accepted his presence.

Claws slapped at the ground as Tony growled, and Steve kicked his feet up into his gut. It was like kicking steel.

Steve flinched lower as a giant, sweeping block knocked into the wolf's side, sending him flying into the wall. Steve didn't waste any time, forcing himself to his feet, gasping for air. The wolf twisted, bared his teeth, the arc bright on his chest. Steve readied himself for another lunge when the Hulk caught Tony around the middle, shoved him into the dirt. Steve had heard the story, seen the aftermath, of how the Wolf and Hulk were supposed to get along now. It seemed, in the heat of things, that this was the exception rather than the rule.

"Star Man," Hulk grunted, bearing down on the Wolf. "Run. Help others. Join soon. Don't forget," he turned and looked, frowned at him.

Steve pat his pocket. The phone was still there, nodded, and turned, running for the hallway. Blasts and the sound of guns were still going off to the front of the house. He kicked open one of the doors to a bedroom, jumped from the balcony.

Natasha was twisting around with an assailant, winded and wide eyed. Steve brought the shield down on their head, sending the man flying. Natasha whipped her hand and the blade hit the soldier in the eye.

"You okay?"

Natasha gasped, let herself be helped up. Steve turned to look at the battlefield. Clint was locked in hand to hand, Thor had engaged two but he was looking very worse for wear.

"Back up is coming," said Steve, raising his shield.

"I'll help Clint, you help Thor," said Natasha. Each motion looked forced, a snarl on her face as she held a knife to the side.

Steve moved into Thor's side, slammed his shield into one of the impossibly strong soldiers.

"Hello, brother!" called Thor, grinning as he swung Mjolnir.

"Didn't want to save any for me?" asked Steve, throwing his shield.

Thor laughed, but his clothes were soaked with blood. Steve swallowed hard. _One alien invasion, easy. Caught with our pants down against whatever these are..._

He found himself wishing for Iron Man, for Thor's armour, Clint's distance. At least they still had Hulk's might. He twisted, catching his shield on the rebound. There was a burst of light from across the lake, a cascade of blue and green. Hulk roared again, launching from the ruins of the villa. He landed with a crash amongst the soldiers, his massive fists coming up. Behind him the Wolf was a blur, snarls echoing through the small field.

It was a massacre after that. Four more soldiers appeared, uninjured and moving fast.

Steve didn't let himself be distracted. He saw Natasha go down from a hit and threw his shield, striking her attacker between the shoulder blades. Clint loosed an arrow close range at the soldier's ehad. Clint pushed himself off of the ground, helped Natasha to her feet. They turned, bringing their weapons up, and Steve looked over to see the wolf tear into one of them. Hulk grabbed two others, flung them both far into the woods.

"As you Midgardians say," said Thor, dropping Mjolnir, "they are boned."

Steve burst out laughing. He looked at Thor. "You okay?"

"They have formidable weapons, but it is only a minor flesh wound, no matter how deep their knives bit. Even a blade inoculated with Loki's power could do little to truly hurt me."

Clint and Natasha made their way over, Natasha limping, leaning heavily against Clint's side. Clint was looking up, and Steve followed his gaze. Amidst the fighting he'd missed the sound of an approaching helicopter. Clint made a soft hiss of anger.

"What do you see?" asked Steve, raising his shield, waiting for new troops to come down on control lines.

"That," Clint took a deep breath, his face contorted in anger. "That's Coulson."

Steve's neck craned back but he couldn't see anything.

"You're wrong," said Natasha.

"I'm not wrong, Nat, and you know it."

There was a crack and they all looked back to see the Hulk send the final soldier flying through a tree. Whatever was left of him was crushed bones and pulp.

Hulk turned and crashed into the woods after him, maybe to make sure the other two he'd thrown were finished.

The _Chinook_ started climbing higher. Paws growled, hips shifting like an agitated cat while he followed the movement.

"He's like the Hulk," said Natasha, surprised. "He helped us."

"No he's not," said Steve, stepping back.

The wolf turned, massive hands ripping gouges in the ground, his silver eyes blazing as he focused on their group. They snarled, advancing, looking impossibly big without the Hulk next to him. Steve swallowed, raising his shield.

"Tony! It's us!" called Steve, and the Wolf growled again, haunches bunching. Clint made a soft, whining sound.

"I will stop him," said Thor.

"No. I've got to," said Steve. He looked around for something to strike against the shield and saw Mjolnir by his feet. He needed Tony/the Wolf to respect him, to see his authority in either form. Needed a show of strength. "I hope you don't mind," he said, and reached down, wrapped his hand around the handle.

It was _heavy._ Steve pulled, and it seemed to come off the ground reluctantly. He lifted it up, arms straining.

"What on earth is this thing made out of?" muttered Steve, glancing at Thor. Thor was looking at him wide eyed, mouth open. Steve wasn't sure why, but he hefted it to a useable height and stepped towards the wolf.

The wolf snarled, shifting, silver eyes flashing. In the distance fireworks were still popping, sending flashes of colour over the lake. Somewhere the Hulk roared.

Steve paused, halfway through the yard, staring directly into Tony's eyes. "You want this to be a wolf pack? _Fine._ You _will acknowledge me."_

The wolf bunched, claws dug in the grass, and he started to shift forward.

Steve forced his shaking muscles to move, striking his shield with Mjolnir.

It was no less amazing the second time. The wolf was bowled over by the ringing sound. It didn't have Thor's powers behind it, but the shockwave made the grass ripple.

The wolf snarled.

 _"You will follow me,"_ he commanded, staring him down.

The wolf reared up, brought his arm to swipe at him. Arm about to give out, Steve knocked the hammer against the shield again, and Paws screamed, heavy hands over his ears as he dropped to the ground.

Steve didn't want to hurt him anymore, and he quite possibly had one swing left in him before he had to drop Mjolnir, but he advanced on him. Paws twisted on the ground, snarling, trying to cover his belly. Steve smacked the hammer into the shield again, and this time Paw writhed, snarling again, stomach up, tail between his legs.

Steve's arm swung down, nearly dropping the hammer. He looked up to see the Hulk watching from the trees, eyes narrowed.

Steve lifted his leg, placed his foot on Tony's abs. Paws growled softly, looked away, relaxed his entire body. Steve let out a shuddering breath and stepped back, dropped the hammer. The muscles in his arm were aching, and Steve stepped back further. Paws turned, laying flat on his stomach, and shifted away towards the Hulk, scurrying like a scared puppy.

Hulk took a few deep breaths, his eyes rolled back. The Wolf looked over, let out a soft whine, and Bruce started to return to normal.

Steve had never actually seen the transformation back before. It was slow, painful to watch. Hulk let out soft sounds of pain that gradually grew quieter, more drawn out, until he was kneeling on the ground, some parts of him shrinking faster than others.

He let out a gasp, once again completely human, and looked up. Paws growled, shifted closer to him, his silver eyes focused on the rest of the team.

"Easy," Bruce murmured, standing up. He reached out and touched Tony's flank, and a ripple rolled through his fur as his muscles tensed.

Bruce looked at the rest of them. "We're leaving," he said. For the first time Steve noticed a bag was tied to the wolf's hind foot, and he wondered if Hulk had done that under some latent command or begging from Bruce before they'd come out to join the fray.

No one replied.

Bruce knotted his pants, tugged a wind breaker from the bag and wrapped it around himself. Paw's flattened himself out on the ground and Bruce climbed on his back, secured his hands in the wolf's fur, and the wolf shifted to a half standing position.

"I'm sorry," he said after a minute.

Steve swallowed. "We can protect you."

Bruce shook his head. "Next time they'll send more augmented soldiers. This will be a clean break."

Steve nodded, raised his aching arm in a small salute. "I've got my orders."

Bruce gave Steve a wan smile before he leaned down, whispered something to the wolf. Paws stared at them, growled again, before turning and running for the crumbled remains of the stone wall. He leaped, disappearing into the trees, Bruce pressed flat against his back.

"What orders?" asked Natasha after a long moment.

Steve turned to find them looking at them. Clint and Natasha were breathing heavily looking worse for wear. Thor, however, was wide eyed, a look of awe and adoration on his face. Steve smiled at him and Thor's answering smile was bright, exalted.

Steve dug the StarkTech phone from his pocket. "My orders were to take this. And one word. Betty."


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahahaha, it's been awhile... still with me? I moved earlier this year, started to go through a divorce... anyway, this story ended up on a computer that went into storage, but I've dug it out now, so here it is :3

_Ljubljana Zalog Railway Station, Slovenia_

**_Days Since Last Incident: Hulk - 1, Wolf - 1_ **

"Run!" Bruce hissed.

Tony took off as fast as he could, huffing for breath. There _had_ to be better ways to catch a train. Granted, Tony Stark did not catch trains. Tony Stark had a private motherfucking jet that was ready to take off whenever he was. Shit waited for him.

"I can't believe people really do this - ho boy!" He jumped when Bruce shouted, throwing himself at the open cargo bay door. Bruce leapt in after him and he grabbed at his arm, pulling him up inside.

"This is insane," he muttered, as Bruce slid the door shut.

"This is how we ignore borders," Bruce replied.

Tony wasn't sure it was worth the wad of cash they'd pushed at the conductor, but he guessed it was about fucking time he got used to being a _fugitive._ He'd seen a clip of a news reel in Lub-Wub or whatever the capital of Slovenia was. _Iron Man wanted by United States Government - Award._ A motherfucking _award_ that wasn't worth the interest he got in a year.

He felt a prickle of anger spark up his back and forced himself to breathe deep _in_ and then _out_ , until the tingling subsided. Bruce moved ahead of him in the dim space and he followed. The entire train was rumbling, the sound of the wheels starting to blend into a kind of background noise.

While Bruce took stock of their things Tony found a patch of straw presumably meant for them, because there was no live cargo in this particular car. Just crates full of god knows what, and Tony couldn't read Slovenian.

"If this is fruit and a single god damn spider crawls out of there I am going to shit," said Tony moodily, sitting down on the straw.

"Don't be such a baby," said Bruce, and Tony could practically hear the roll of his eyes.

Bruce sat down next to him. Tony yawned into his hand. They hadn't had much sleep since they'd jumped ship. According to Bruce they'd pushed straight into Slovenia from Italy, skirting towns. Tony couldn't remember any of it, considering he'd been much larger and furrier at the time. After that they'd had to find someone willing to smuggle two people out of the country. Bruce didn't want to use the passports until absolutely necessary.

"I've traveled in worse," said Bruce after a minute. He fished a bottle out of the bag and handed it to Tony.

"Oh?" he asked, before he tilted the water bottle and took a deep drink. According to the Slovenian conductor with the passable Italian it was going to be a bit of a long trip.

"Transporting chickens," he said, and Tony wrinkled his nose with the thought. "One of the others developed histoplasmosis. It was a long trip."

Tony shook his head. It wasn't exactly his idea of traveling in style. He handed the water bottle back and wiped his mouth. "What's end game?" he asked, staring at his fingers. He'd been afraid to ask before. He'd been afraid since transforming at the villa. He hadn't told Bruce that he could remember killing, could remember the taste of blood, all too vividly. And perhaps the worst of it was, was that the memory was laced with both disgust at the act, and pleasure.

Bruce looked at him, reached out and threaded his fingers with Tony's. Tony squeezed back. "Laos."

"Never been." Hell, he'd hardly heard of it. Most of his tropical getaways were in either Central America or in Thailand.

"I have," said Bruce. "Briefly, anyway." He didn't elaborate and Tony didn't ask.

"Is it nice?"

Bruce shrugged. "I guess we'll find out."

Tony yawned again. The future looked dark, strange. He wasn't used to having to hide, to being a fugitive. Doors opened when you were Tony Stark, but now every single kind had closed to him. He curled into Bruce's side and sighed, thinking about what he was. What it meant for the everyday people they came across. They weren't terrorists, they weren't backpackers looking for a thrill. They were two lost souls with poison in their blood and monsters waiting on the inside with nowhere real to go.

 _How the fuck did he do this for so long? How can I consider this?_ But he smiled, knowing he'd follow Bruce anywhere now. He wasn't sure he liked the mental image the wolf had evoked of Bruce. The only real word that it could have been connected to was 'alpha,' but now that image was bitterly skewed with the Captain, and he saw a hammer striking steel and heard the ringing of authority.

The wolf inside of him growled and Tony shivered.

"We'll be alright," said Bruce, stroking Tony's hair.

Tony didn't reply, closed his eyes, resolved to get some sleep. He hoped this was the right thing, for both of them.

~+0+~

_Three Weeks Later, MIT, Boston, United States_

Steve walked with Thor down a corridor at MIT. Steve felt somewhat out of place amongst the halls, and it helped he wasn't the only one. He glanced at Thor, who smiled at him. Steve felt a small bubble of warmth in his stomach and shook his head. Ever since he'd done the allegedly impossible by lifting Mjolnir they'd become close, closer than he’d ever thought.

"According to the directions provided by Miss Potts's handmaiden, the laboratory should be up ahead," said Thor, reading off of a small piece of paper.

After the battle at the villa SHIELD agents had shown up within a few hours. They swept the area to clear it of possible WSC incursion. It seemed Fury, in agreement with NATO and top members of various countries within the UN, was granted permission to move from the WSC as a separate division entirely. They still hadn't completed their goal, but according to Maria Hill it wouldn't be long before SHIELD was an independent agency which would work with the WSC only when their goals intercepted. They had no plans for a repeat hostile takeover from Ross, or any other agent of the World Security Council.

Steve had expected a court marshal when they returned, but other than safe screening to ensure no infected blood had damaged anyone SHIELD burned the remaining bodies and sent out agents to make nice with the local authorities. According to information that Nick Fury had gleaned from double agents, the soldiers which had attacked them had been a special kind of mutant they'd developed with baseline healing powers and had been augmented with the same super soldier serum Bruce had attempted to develop. Rather than creating more Hulks, though, it had merely enhanced them, apparently like it had done to Emil Blonsky.

Steve and Thor had completed their mission and were given some free time. With SHIELD looking the other way with Barton and Romanoff, on a mission in Asia working with MI6, Steve felt it was safe to start looking for Betty Ross.

"Here it is," said Thor, pausing by a door. The placard read _Dr. Elizabeth Ross, Microbiology,_ along with a few names listing other doctors and student helpers. This was her research lab. According to what information Pepper had dug up for the two of them, Betty Ross had left Culver University after the second incident there with the Hulk and had accepted a grant for research at MIT.

"Do we knock?" asked Steve. It wasn't a private office, but...

Thor shrugged, reached out and opened it. "God's do not wait for permission," he said, letting himself inside.

Steve rolled his eyes, smiling a little. Thor had his own set of rules.

The lab was bright and clean. Steve could honestly say he didn't know what anything was, just that if Howard Stark had been able to see it he would have been jumping with glee. Some music was playing, some modern thing Steve didn't recognize at all, and a woman was seated at a computer station. She was pretty, wearing glasses and had long brown hair. She was bobbing her head to the beat, tapping her foot, and completely unaware anyone had entered at all.

Steve glanced at Thor, who nodded. This certainly looked like Dr. Ross. Steve stepped forward. "Excuse me? Ma'am?"

The woman jumped, letting out a startled sound, before she whirled in her rolling chair. She looked between the two of them, eyes jumping up and down their bodies in assessment. "Omigosh, if this is Sally's idea of a joke... Who sent you? It's not my birthday, whoever said that was lying."

Steve frowned, wondering what a birthday had to do with two men showing up in her lab. "Uh, no. I'm Steve Rogers and this is..." he looked at Thor, wondering how to introduce him.

"Donald Blake," said Thor, but he looked confused as well. "What does the date of your birth have to do with why we have come?"

Betty blushed. "A practical joke war between another girl and I in the office. It's nothing, never mind I said it. She threatened... well, never mind. What do you need?"

Steve stepped closer to her, and she looked a touch leery of him. "We were sent by Bruce Banner."

The effect that single name had on the woman was shocking. She stood up, fists bunched and eyes wide, flicking back and forth between them while her lip trembled. "You're Avengers," she said, stepping forward. "Oh my god, _Steve Rogers,_ you're Captain America, and you're the alien, Thor. Bruce sent you? Really? Is he okay? What's happening, what's going on?"

Steve felt a little taken aback by the sudden desperation in her words. He wished now that he'd gotten more of a background on Betty Ross than that they were colleagues at Culver University. He sensed something more, something deeper. Bruce had mentioned once he’d been engaged before… could this be her?

"You're Dr. Ross, I take it," said Steve. She nodded. This was good. No one else was around, but he remembered the way Ross had had his daughter on CCTV, quite possibly had her tapped. She could be being monitored even now. "Let's go somewhere a little more private and talk, Dr. Ross."

"Of course," she said, snatching up a purse and wind breaker from her desk. "And call me Betty."

`~+0+~`

They found a small hamburger joint well away from campus. Steve didn't want to go anywhere Betty was reported to frequent, since he never knew who might be listening in, so she’d chosen this place for its noisiness. After ordering their food, Steve began to tell the entire story. He knew most of it would be classified, and if running from SHIELD with two fugitives hadn't gotten him court marshaled this certainly would, but he didn't care. Bruce needed him, Tony needed him, and this was the way it had to happen.

Betty picked at her fries, frowning at him. "So you're telling me that the famous Tony Stark was... well..." her voice dropped, "bitten by a _werewolf?"_

Steve nodded, decided to eat some of his hamburger while she digested most of the story. Thor, beyond a brief explanation of the _ulfhedinn,_ hadn't done much beyond working his way through several triple patty super burgers and nearly every flavour of milkshake they had.

"So Bruce is with Mr. Stark looking for a cure?"

Steve shook his head, swallowed his mouthful. "The two of them were researching in private, and thought they'd come up with a solution, but then General Ross," Betty wrinkled her nose, "attacked us and they were forced to flee. I asked them to stay with us, but Bruce was sure that he could go further with Tony on his own."

"Bruce knows how to slip past borders," said Betty, looking a little glum. "So where do I come in?"

Steve pulled the StarkTech phone from his pocket. It was wrapped in a bit of cloth to protect it. The explosion had caused the screen to spider web, but according to Pepper and her PA, Miss Li, the data was still perfectly intact. "This contains all of their research, as well as the solution."

Betty took it gingerly, examining it. "I've never seen a computer like this."

"It's a phone, actually," said Steve. "Don't ask me how it works because I don't know. But Bruce seemed sure that they wouldn't be able to utilize it wherever they were going and wanted you to have it. I think he means for you to finish the research and perhaps create the cure?"

Betty shrugged. "I won't know until I see what's on here. From the sounds of it, this virus... well it's dangerous, volatile, and it comes from _another world._ I'm not sure how much help I can be. This 'SHEILD' organization would probably help more."

"No. SHIELD can't know this survived," said Steve. "So far they're still connected to the WSC, and until they're independent all research relating to Tony would fall into the wrong hands. If they had a cure for being able to create werewolves that didn’t shed the virus…"

"An army of _ulfhedinn_ would be a plague upon your world, destroying friend and foe alike.You are our only option," said Thor. "From what we understand, you are greatly skilled in the sciences of biology, and if Bruce Banner has decided that you are worthy to possess the information, then he must think extremely highly of you and think you capable of helping."

Betty looked somewhat taken aback. Steve didn’t blame her, Thor’s mannerisms took getting used to. "Well, thank-you, um, Thor. I'll get on this as soon as I can. Anything to help Bruce. And if Mr. Stark is suffering the way you say he is..." she frowned, looking troubled. "Well, of course Bruce would want to help. No one would want to see their friend go through that."

Steve smiled. "Thank-you, so much," he said. "Now, on the last bit of business, Pepper Potts, the CEO of Stark Industries, has said that if you _do_ decide to work on the cure she knows it will be within your own personal time, and has decided to put forth money for a grant."

"Oh, no no -" Betty blushed, waving her hands. "No, it's no trouble."

Steve shrugged, reached into his jacket, and pulled his wallet out. He took out a cheque and handed it to her. He'd gotten a look at it, and wasn't surprised to see Betty's face go even redder. It was a _lot_ of money.

"Oh my god," Betty said, covering her mouth with her hand. "I can't, this is insane, I - this would fund me _for years."_

"Her words were, half now, half on completion."

Betty looked up. "So, so I can have access to half this amount? Why give me the check if I only-"

"No, _that's_ half."

Betty squeaked, her hand tightened around the cheque, and she started shaking her head. "That's insane. _Insane._ The General would notice this, he'd-"

"Pepper also says if scrutiny is an issue, she has plenty of lawyers able to get you out of your tenure position with MIT to move on at Stark Industries Research and Development full time. Your choice."

Betty put the cheque down, like she was suddenly afraid it would burn or bite her. "I - I mean of course I'll help Bruce, but I didn't need this incentive. Gosh, I... I'll need to think about this."

"Take all the time you need about the money and the position but try not to take too long with the phone."

"No, of course not." She scooped it up, wrapping it back tenderly in its cloth, and stowed it in her purse. "How will they know when the cure is complete? Do you know where they are?"

Steve shook his head. "I assume he'll contact us."

She nodded, looked sad again. "Right."

Steve was more than sure now that this had been Bruce’s fiancée. He wondered how she'd feel about Tony and Bruce being closer than friends, or maybe how she felt that in the last six months Bruce had never tried to contact her, despite being back in the United States. He felt sorry for her, and knew that it was beyond cruel to ask her such a favour, but they really had no choice.

She checked her watch, and after a moment picked up her cheque. She held it reverently, and mouthed the number again before hiding it in her purse. "I need to get back to the school. I have class soon." She frowned at him, looking apologetic.

"Don't worry about it. Would you like us to take you back?"

She shook her heard. "No. I'll take a cab, I'll be fine. The General probably isn't targeting me, not over this. Maybe if I ever deposit that cheque, but..."

"I'll get lunch," said Steve. Pepper had also supplied him and Thor with a shiny black _SI_ credit card. Steve didn't know what the limit was, but he was betting high.

She smiled. "Thank-you, so much, for... for the information, for the opportunity. Tell Miss Potts, too. Oh, screw it," she shifted around the table and threw her arms around Steve's neck. Steve blushed, patting her on the shoulder. He saw Thor give him an amused look, but then Betty was letting go and moving towards him, and she hugged him too. "Thank-you. Take care!"

A moment later she disappeared out the door. Steve knew they were making the right choice with her. Everything about her was sincere, an exact opposite of General Ross. Steve doubted there was a sincere bone in that man's body.

"Done?" he asked Thor.

Thor had several dishes in front of him, and his fifth milkshake, half drank. "Indeed. I am very fond of this American food."

Steve grinned, standing up. "Traditional is good," he said.

Thor finished chugging the last of the shake. Steve smiled, expecting Thor to get a brain freeze, but Thor banged the plastic cup on the table, smacking his lips, and a few neighboring tables goggled at them as they left.

Outside the wind was biting. He looked around for Betty, but she'd already vanished into a cab, he supposed. He'd ask Pepper for an update on her status later to be safe and sure that Betty wasn’t going to do anything with that phone that could lead them into danger.

"Where do you think they are?" asked Steve, as the two of them headed for the rental car they'd brought.

Thor shrugged. "Heimdall knows," he said. "I am sure they are both doing well, regardless."

"Hope so," said Steve, blushing a little as Thor wrapped his arm around Steve's shoulder.

`~+0+~`

_Seven months after the bite, Batangas, Philippines_

**_Days Since Last Incident – Hulk: 201, Wolf: 42_ **

"You're done," said Ana Cachuela from behind the counter.

Bruce looked up, his back cracking a little as he straightened. "Just let me finish putting up these bottles for you, Ana? To spare you the trouble."

Ana smiled, her wide face creasing a little. "Oh, alright then. You're a dear."

Bruce smiled back, lifting the flats of beer and setting them on the shelf. When he was done he took the cardboard around to the trash out back. The other employee, Theresa Navea, smiled rather brightly at him from where she sat on a small crate sipping at a bottle of juice and perusing a magazine. She was on her fifteen.

"Off, Bruce?" she asked, as he tossed the cardboard away.

"Yeah."

He heard the box shift as she got up. "There's a new movie out, I was wondering if you might want to see it with me? I mean, I work tonight, but..."

Bruce sighed, but smiled when he turned around. "I can't, Theresa."

She frowned. "Oh?"

"It wouldn't be a good idea."

She fingered the bottle of juice. "If it's the age, that's not a problem. My mom -"

Bruce shook his head. "I'm seeing someone, Theresa," he said.

"Oh," she said, looking taken aback. "You've never mentioned."

"I have."

It took her a moment before her face flushed red. "Oh! Oh my gosh I'm sorry. I didn't realize... Your roommate - oh! I'm... I'm sure Ana needs me," she said, and fled inside of the store.

Bruce laughed softly, following after. He picked up his now ragged backpack from behind the front counter and slung it over his shoulder. He headed for the front door, waving at Ana. Theresa was hiding somewhere, Bruce could hear the clatter of bottles.

"Your money," said Ana, holding out an envelope.

Bruce smiled at her and took it, stared at his name written at the top. It was becoming familiar, but it had been strange for the first month seeing 'Bruce Danford' instead of Bruce Banner. "Thanks," he said.

"God bless," she called, and Bruce let himself out onto the street.

The evening was hot, humidity making his hair curl tighter than normal. He already missed the air conditioned shop where he worked. The sun was beginning to dip, and soon the entire city would be dark, light up by the sodium lamps. The road was packed with little cars and every example of motorbike known to man, roaring up and down weaving through tight holes in traffic. Brightly coloured jeepny's, private run Filipino buses which vastly outnumbered public transit, rumbled by, full of people, and the streets were teeming with shoppers.

Bruce liked the Philippines. The locals were friendly, helpful, and primarily English speaking, so when Bruce's Tagalog failed him he could fall back on something else. He jumped from the side of the sidewalk, avoiding a Dual Sport bike rumbling up the gutter. A rider yelled an apology and Bruce waved.

The next second he noticed an unmarked van and ducked his head, pretending to be interested in a nearby shop window. _Old habits, but necessary ones,_ he thought to himself, staring at dress clad mannequins as the vehicle passed.

Twilight was starting to set in as he neared the apartment building. It was three stories tall, banked up against other buildings. In areas like this everything was stacked together, a mishmash of houses and people living nearly on top of each other. But there was no crime, people were happy, helpful, living in a tight knit community. Bruce said hello to one or two people as he climbed the stairs, eager to get home.

Bruce let himself into their third floor apartment, setting his bag down next to the door. He could smell something good but doubted Tony had done anything so rash as _cook._ Sure enough when he entered the living area he could see the white paper bag and cardboard box that dinner had come in, although it was a point in Tony's favour that he'd made rice. The little cooker sat to the side with a bent spoon sticking out of the white mass within.

The man himself was sitting in front of the TV on their tiny sofa, feet up and watching a cartoon. He was muttering as he ate, a massive and somewhat bedraggled example of the cathood at his feet swishing its long tail. The sight took Bruce back, remembering all those times he'd tried to immerse himself in the different languages using children's programming to pick up the language.

"Hey," he said, walking over to the table. A plate and fork already sat out ready for him. Next to the bag sat a Filipino beer he was fond of, the glass covered in a dew of moisture. In the take out tray there was bistek sitting next to the rice cooker. The scent reminded him of how long it had been since lunch and his stomach rumbled.

"Welcome home," said Tony, stirring his food.

Bruce helped himself to some food and a beer and headed for the threadbare couch. He sat down next to him and cracked his beer, paying no attention to Tony's look of disgust. Bruce started to eat, ignoring the cat at their feet.

"How long are you going to let him in here?"

"Señor Juan Cortez answers to no man, and comes and goes as he pleases," said Tony. He flicked a piece of beef at the huge tabby. The cat snapped the meat up, licking its chops.

Bruce wasn't much of a cat person. He wasn't much of an animal person actually, with the exception of his dog he'd had in Rio de Janeiro. The cat, however, seemed to like him too much. With a soft, rumbling meow it rubbed up against Bruce's foot, and he had to resist the urge to push it away. Tony wasn't really an animal person either, but something about Cortez's ragamuffin appearance with his patched fur and tattered ears endeared him to the beast. Quite possibly it was because it was the only animal that either didn't sense or didn’t care about what was lurking inside of him.

With a click of the remote Tony changed the channel to the world news, one of sixteen or so channels they got. The two of them were always on the lookout for any sign they might be needed, although neither of them ever discussed going back.

When they were done eating Tony took both dishes and headed for the sink, leaving Bruce alone with the annoying cat. With the plates out of sight Cortez jumped up and started beseeching him for an ear scratch. Bruce huffed in annoyance.

"So how was work?" asked Tony. The kitchen tap was going and there was a soft _clink, clink_ as he washed the dishes.

"Fine. Working in a liquor store get's pretty boring after awhile," he said, getting up to help Tony. "And Theresa asked me out."

Tony's answering sound, something like a growl mixed with a huff, made Bruce smile to himself. "Oh?"

"I told her I was taken," said Bruce. He kissed Tony on the neck. "How was your day?"

"How do you think?" Tony muttered, scrubbing the plate with more force than necessary.

Bruce sighed. Because of the arc reactor Tony usually was forced to hide away. When it was cool enough for him to wear a thicker shirt he would be able to work and go out and about. It was something that had worked out fine for them during the rainy season, but now that it was getting hotter again Tony was forced to stay inside and out of sight, leaving only to go to the market and in the nearby area.

"I liked Laos. At least I could work."

Bruce picked up the clean plate and started to dry it. They were in Laos in the cool season, and because Tony spoke fluent French he had an easier time communicating and was able to find a temporary job. They'd been found by WSC troops there and had to run. It hadn't been close. Bruce had spotted them well before they'd been seen. But it was close enough.

"I'm sorry," said Bruce.

Tony shrugged. "At least I can go out at night sometimes."

Bruce put away what food was left in their small refrigerator while Tony put away the plates. Bruce glanced outside. The night was fairly clear, and darkness was descending fast.

"Want to go for a ride?"

Tony looked over at him, wistful. "Where to?"

"The beach."

The one they liked to go to was a very long ride. It wasn't very private, but it was rocky and not many people went near at night. Bruce was practiced enough in many martial arts he wasn't worried about anyone bothering them, and Tony was practicing Kali with a local man whose silence they bought.

"Yeah, square deal," said Tony, grabbing his sweater off of the chair. He zipped it up over his tank top, hiding the arc reactor from sight. "Puto?"

"Puto," smiled Bruce. Tony had developed a strong fondness for the sweet rice cake.

Tony was slipping on his sandals when he noticed Cortez on the table. One of Bruce's firm rules that all windows and doors were shut and locked when they left, and the cat was to stay out. Tony clapped his hands. "Vamonos, Senor Cortez! Make haste!"

The cat flicked its tail at him and, despite its girth, managed to jump from the table to the window, where he slipped onto the fire escape and disappeared to wherever the creature kept its home. Bruce shut the window after it, shaking his head.

"If we go home," said Tony, "that beast is coming with."

Bruce rolled his eyes.

"Come on, it's the only cat that, well... can stand my furry problem." That was the closest Tony ever got, lately, to admitting to Paws. Bruce supposed it wasn't any different from his deflections about the 'Other Guy.'

Outside night had finished falling. Bruce followed Tony down the stairs and to the street. Their bike, which Tony had found and fixed up, was an old 79 Honda CB. It had likely transferred through many hands, and the one time red gas tank was chipped and scratched and rusted so the original colour was best to be guessed at. Bruce unlocked it from the pole, stowed the chain in the ratty saddle bag.

"Who's driving?" he asked.

"You," said Tony. "I want to enjoy the wind."

Bruce knew he shouldn't neglect the helmet, but he didn't have the heart to tell Tony to put one on. He unlocked his helmet, slipped it over his head, and swung his leg over the bike. It took two kicks to start before the engine rumbled to life.

"Sounds like she's having troubles idling," said Tony. He climbed on behind Bruce, held onto his hips.

"Something for you to fix," said Bruce, and Tony squeezed in response.

Bruce pulled out, driving off of the sidewalk, merging into traffic.

The drive was long, and the traffic never seemed to slow. Bruce was used to this kind of driving though, and weaved between cars and drove down gutters, blending in with the locals. Eventually they found themselves leaving town, leaving the constricted patterns of the city onto the free flowing highway. Tony whooped softly behind him as Bruce took his speed up to sixty.

Bruce took an off ramp onto a nearly empty, rougher country road, the lights of Batangas began to disappear, and they were in darkness.

Bruce adjusted one of his mirrors to see Tony. Tony was smiling, his head tilted back as the wind rippled his hair. Bruce was happy to see Tony looking so peaceful and resolved to take him up into the mountains one day, up where it was cool and there were less people.

He pulled up to their favourite stretch of beach. Tony hopped off the bike, holding a packet of paper wrapped cakes they'd bought on the way. Bruce followed Tony, who at once began to hop over rocks, heading for the surf.

They sat together on their favourite rock about ten feet from the water, leaning against each other and not talking. The air smelled like salt, and sometimes when a particularly big wave struck they could lick their lips and taste it. The city lights were dim and the stars were bright and in the trillions over head.

The paper crinkled, and Tony handed Bruce one of the round, sweet cakes. Bruce took a bite, chewed slowly as he watched the ocean with its silver bangles reflecting the light of the moon. This, here, suspended in a moment thousands of miles from the pain of the past, was everything Bruce lived for. Maybe he wasn't helping TB victims in Africa, or black fever in India, but the simpler life gave him peace.

"What do you think the others are doing?" asked Tony after awhile. Bruce noticed he'd demolished the entire packet of cakes.

Bruce shrugged. "Saving the world? Maybe they contacted Betty."

"Maybe there's a cure."

Bruce nodded. "Maybe."

"How long?"

"Two more months." They'd agreed eight months was plenty of time to synthesize the 'cure' for Tony, to keep him from shedding the virus.

Tony turned to look at him. He had a quiet desperation in his eyes that Bruce recognized, had seen every time he'd looked into the mirror after he'd run to South America. Bruce reached up, brushed away a crumb, and kissed him softly, reassuringly.

Tony leaned into it, moaning. Bruce knew it couldn't go far, was too dangerous, but he reached up and ran his fingers through Tony's short hair. He'd cut it mostly off, occasionally grew out his beard to avoid his iconic goatee. Bruce liked it right now, though, just past a five o'clock shadow.

He slid his fingers down, cupping Tony's neck. Tony's hands were tight a moment on Bruce's arms before he shifted, sliding into Bruce's lap.

"Tony," Bruce murmured, pulling away.

"Shut up, I want you," said Tony, almost panting. In the bare light of the moon Bruce could see the tips of long canines glinting.

"It's dangerous," he said, but Tony pulled him closer, his kisses even more demanding. Bruce squeezed Tony's side, slipping his fingers underneath of his clothes, and Tony made a needy sound as Bruce's fingers touched skin. He slipped one hand around Tony's back, pulling his hips down, and Tony rocked against him, kissing harder, needier, one hand wound in Bruce's hair, the other pawing at the rock. Bruce heard the impotent scrape of claws against it and pulled away, knowing how close Tony was getting to the edge of his control.

"It's okay-"

"LIKE FUCK IT'S OKAY!" Tony was on his feet in a lighting fast movement, jumping over rocks, each movement animalistic. There was a heavy splash, and Tony was in the ocean, moving away from him.

"Tony," said Bruce, scrambling to get up, to gather his thoughts.

Tony was getting deep, up to his waist. Bruce jumped in after him, the cold water going though his shoes and socks, soaking him instantly. He struggled against the waves until they were hitting him in the chest, his face and hair getting wet with spray.

"Tony," he said again, lunging after him, grabbing his arm.

Tony snarled in response, his hand coming around. Bruce yelled as claws swiped through his shirt, cut his arm, but he didn't let go. "Tony, it really is okay. It is."

Tony growled, a lower sound, and Bruce pulled him over. Tony's eyes were silver, his eyebrows in an angry line. There was something mournful there too, and Tony let out a soft whine as Bruce pulled him into his body.

Tony's arms were like a vice around him, squeezing hard. They rocked with each wave, salt stinging the cuts on his arm. Bruce could feel the light pressure of claws pressing against his back, felt every pop of Tony's sobs in his chest.

"We'll figure it out," said Bruce, pressing his lips against Tony's wet hair. It hadn’t  been so long ago, since the last transformation… which had happened for this very reason, on this same stretch of beach.

 _Is this how Betty felt?_ he wondered, remembering the way she'd wanted him so badly and he'd had to pull away. Now he was able to give, but Tony wasn't. It was frustrating, heartbreaking.

"I'm sorry," Tony whispered, "I didn't mean to, I-"

"It's okay," he said again, tilting Tony's face up. When they kissed this time it tasted like salt, and Bruce didn't want to let him go until Tony understood, could feel it. Tony's answering kiss was hesitant, shy, and Bruce ached, wondering why he and the ones he loved always had to suffer.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and finally, some sexy lovins

_Eight months after the bite, Batangas, Philippines_

**_Days Since Last Incident: Hulk, 232, Wolf, 65_ **

Bruce got dressed. Everything in his ears was white noise. Rain was coming down hard, and amongst the wind all that could be heard was a steady roar of pounding water. Batangas had been hit with a typhoon two days before, and it still hadn't let up even though the winds were lessening.

He paused next to a calendar, squinting at it in the dim light. It was seven in the morning, by rights there should have been some sunlight, but the clouds turned everything to constant night. Tony had begun to mark the calendar in a few places, in dots and code. One day in particular was surrounded with stars and squiggle's, Tony's mark of their projected 'radiation free day.' It was set for a week from then.

Bruce turned, picking up his rain slicker from one of the two mismatched chairs at their table. He had a bit of cash to pick up food on the way to work and didn't plan on eating, just sneaking out before Tony woke up. He'd become despondent since the rain started, even more cooped up than usual.

"Don't go," he heard, when Bruce approached the door. The words were soft, pleading.

Bruce sighed. He turned to look, and Tony pushed himself up so he was sitting in his small bed.

"Please." The blankets were twisted around his legs a little, and Bruce thought about the way they'd been wrapped around Tony's body as they'd kissed the night before, holding onto each other in the dark as the rain poured. Uncovered, the arc glowed brilliantly, lighting the little apartment.

"I have work. Nothing stops because of a little rain," he said, knowing it was more than a little rain. Streets and homes were flooded, but life moved on here.

"Skip work. You've taken extra shifts before. They won't blame you, for one _day,_ " he said.

"I've got an early shift," said Bruce softly, wishing he didn't have to have this conversation, wishing he didn't have to tell him no because it was getting so hard to turn away from him and fight the rising tide between them. He fought it, hard, because every kiss and caress seemed to bring about the silver in his eyes, fraying an already fragile thread of Tony's self control. Last night, and every night, had been no different, ended in frustration.

"I don't care. I _need_ you." Tony's voice was rough with want. They did everything they could to resist, sleeping separately, avoiding close contact, but it was getting so hard to look him in the eyes and deny what was there. He needed Tony so badly he could almost taste it - what his skin would be like under his seeking tongue, the taste of his saliva, salty sweat. What he would smell like, sound like, _feel_ like. He shuddered a little, thinking about how different this was to his own past. He _wanted_ to bridge that gap, knew he could without letting the Other Guy free, but knew _Tony_ might not have that level of control. It had taken Bruce years, and they'd only had months to work him towards that hard point between serenity and rage that allowed Bruce to balance between himself and the Hulk.

"Please," Tony’s voice almost broke.

Bruce let out a shuddering sigh. It would be easy to walk to him. Easy to push his bed over into Tony's so they could lay together, instead of parting every night.

"I can't," said Bruce, trying to ignore the soft sound Tony made as he left, the door swinging shut behind him. Guilt burned in Bruce's stomach, and before he could go back he ran down the stairs for the street.

Because of the rain and the flooding the jeepny's were the only things running, so the streets were nearly empty. From what he could see a few people waited under umbrellas and in bright rain jackets, and one or two others ran for the cover of doorways and their homes. Bruce watched one rumbling up towards him and patted his pocket for his wallet and realized he'd forgotten it upstairs. It would be sitting on the table where he'd tossed it last night.

The jeepny passed as Bruce stepped from the curb. His head was bowed under the rain, and he watched sluice off of the sheeting on a building. He could walk to work, get soaked. Or...

He sighed. _I'll just tell Tony I forgot my wallet, it will be fine,_ he thought, turning. He took the stairs two at a time. Tony didn't look up or make a sound as Bruce came into the room. Bruce picked up his wallet, rolled the leather billfold through his fingers as he stared at the glowing blue light on the bed. Tony was pretending to sleep, probably, but his face looked pinched and pained.

 _I could just walk out,_ he thought.

But his feet were carrying him to the bed.

_I need to go to work._

His knees were touching the edge of the bed and Tony's eyes came open, glittering in the light of the reactor blazing through his shirt. The room was blue, the _world_ was blue, and Bruce's lips parted at the same time Tony's did.

_This isn't going to work out._

Tony had pulled him down by the lapels of his rain jacket. He heard the buttons popping as he crawled onto the bed. Tony's hands were moving over his shoulders, pushing off the jacket, dripping water. Bruce knew this wasn't going to end any way but the two of them, maybe, just kissing and touching for the entire day, but he was getting hard anyway.

"Go slow," said Bruce, meeting Tony's eyes as the jacket hit the ground. "Just breathe slow, like meditation."

"Now is not the time for meditating," said Tony, his hands working at Bruce's shirt. Bruce didn't miss the quicksilver gleam in his eyes.

"Unless you want Paws to make a guest appearance and ruin your one month streak, now is the perfect time," said Bruce, and he caught Tony's hands. "Relax, lean back, like I've been trying to tell you."

Tony made a face and leaned back, his expression a mixture of impatience and apprehension. Bruce licked his lips, finished unbuttoning his flannel work shirt and tossed it over onto his own bed. The small single bed Tony slept on wasn't much more than a cot, but he straddled him, leaned down and kissed him softly, touched his forehead against his. "Just breathe."

He copied Tony's breath's at first, slow, even, as he did nothing more than gently touch, running his hands over Tony's arms, neck, and chest. He breathed in on Tony's exhales and out on his inhales, keeping eye contact. He tried to focus on loaning Tony some of his tranquility, his energy, and he watched as Tony's pupils dilated, his body shifted just a little more restlessly under him, but his eyes remained brown.

"Good," said Bruce, kissing his cheekbones. "Good," and Tony shivered underneath of him, arching under a pet of his hand dragging down his spine.

Bruce skipped work for the first time, ignored the buzzing of his prepaid, anonymous cell phone in his discarded jeans. Ana would understand, he was sure. She had Theresa to help her, and business was slow the last few days.

He focused on Tony's body, kissing over his chest, touching the arc reactor in ways he'd really only imagined. Tony looked worried as Bruce lifted off his shirt, pressed his lips to the glass, worked his tongue around the casing. He could feel the buzz of energy tingling through him, and exhaled against it, watching his breath mist.

"Beautiful," he said, and Tony shuddered, silver flashed in his eyes just a moment, and Bruce moved back up, kissing, sharing his breaths, until he was calmed again. Tony might not appreciate the lingering slowness of tantric sex, but Bruce did, and he was willing to teach.

The rain kept pouring, the sound all encompassing, editing everything out until it was just noise beyond the two of them. The humidity was wild, and Bruce found himself loving the salt taste of Tony's slick skin, the way they moved together. He breathed in Tony's breath when he touched him for the first time. Felt the quick _bump-bump_ of Tony's pulse under his fingertips as he ran his hand first slowly over his length, then made his touches longer, more lingering.

He worked at a pace balancing Tony between human and not. Silver ringed his eyes, fangs peeked out from behind kiss swollen lips whenever he gasped, and nails that were just a touch too long dragged at the sheets.

The two of them, together, got to know each other. Bruce discovered the delicious gasps Tony made as he ran his tongue between his thigh and perineum, the way he liked it if Bruce grazed his teeth along his wrists, how sensitive he seemed to get behind his knees and on the back of his neck. Tony explored in turn, finding out how Bruce liked it when his hair was pulled on, the way Bruce couldn't stop from arching and twisting when Tony mouthed at his lower back.

 "Why didn't we do this before?" Tony gasped, as Bruce applied slow pressure with his fingers up against his perineum, below where Tony's prostate was as he ran his tongue along the length of his cock.

"Because you seemed insistent on jumping in too fast," he said, just before he drew the head of his cock in and teased with his tongue, applying a slight amount of pressure.

Tony let out a strangled sounding groan. "We've been sleeping apart for _months,_ hardly kissing and touching, can you _blame_ me for wanting to go a bit quicker?"

Bruce laughed, and Tony's hips twitched at the sensation. Bruce pressed his free hand against Tony's femoral, taking his pulse. He counted in his head as he took more of him in. Slowly, with time, Tony seemed to be mastering himself.

Bruce shifted his hand down, was unsurprised to find the way he was able to slip a finger in with only saliva for lube. Tony was probably more relaxed than he'd ever been, and he dared to tap his prostrate, just slightly.

Tony's pulse jumped and he made a sound between a cry of pleasure and a growl. Bruce pulled off to watch, but Tony just moaned, digging his fingers into the sheets. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he said, his voice almost broken. "No adrenaline, I'm fine."

Normally, in this kind of situation, Bruce would want Tony to fuck him, to take control. That was how it played out in most of his fantasies, with the Tony Stark he'd gotten to know before the bite, before it had stripped his control away. Before the Hulk, whenever he was with other men it was what he preferred. In this, though, he knew Tony needed to relax, let someone else take the driver's seat. Bruce knew, though, that he could have it both ways.

They broke apart for a few minutes, for a drink of water, to let Tony relax a little further. Bruce took the small can of olive oil he'd purchased for cooking back to the bed with him.

Tony looked at it, smirking. "Really? No KY?"

Bruce chuckled. "It's not something I thought we'd need and I forgot to put it on the grocery list. So sue me."

"I might. I have a lot of lawyers."

Bruce grinned. "Well I can't afford to go to court. I guess I'll have to settle. What are your terms?"

Tony made a long humming sound as Bruce kissed up his neck. "I guess it will be for you to show me why you brought olive oil to the bed."

Bruce smiled. "Lots of vegans use this as lube, and plenty of other people do, too, as an alternative to chemicals in preservatives."

"It's just weird," said Tony, watching as Bruce poured a little into his palms.

"It's not like I suggested using strawberry jam or something. Stop getting me side tracked and roll over," he said, and Tony laughed softly, but he groaned as Bruce started to massage his back. Bruce knew he was good at massage, had picked up the practice when he was moving around, working in TB units and other small hospitals. Patients too often didn't get to feel the gentle touch of another human being, were used to nothing but latex and needles, so Bruce was happy to be able to help in any way he could.

By the time Bruce got to his lower back Tony was groaning softly into the pillow. He pressed his fingers, once, to measure his pulse, before he applied a little more olive oil to his fingers. "Turn," he said.

"Nnngh."

"Please," he laughed and Tony did, his eyes completely brown. Bruce pressed a kiss to his lips, keeping his eyes open as he crawled over him, straddled Tony, and began to slick his cock with slow, easy movements.

"I've never felt like this," said Tony, his head rolling back. "Never felt this _good_ and calm at the same time."

Bruce smiled a little as he massaged the scar tissue around the arc reactor with his tongue. "Do you want to try to fuck me?" he asked, before he squeezed the base of Tony’s cock with his hand and pressed against the arch with his mouth, making Tony writhe.

"Please, I - god you don't know how badly I need that, to have you. I think, when I smell your pheromones," he moaned a little again when Bruce started jerking him a little harder, "I think that's what it's like, to go into heat. I'll catch that scent and just want you so badly that it's all I can think about. It's something good that this gave me."

Bruce prepped himself while Tony spoke, watching his closed eyes. Bruce was so relaxed, so in control of himself, it was nothing to slip two fingers into himself and scissor them.

Bruce pulled his fingers out and lined himself up with Tony’s cock. Tony's eyes opened and he met Bruce's gaze as Bruce sank down on top of him. They both moaned, mouths coming open at the same time at the first push. Bruce sank down about halfway before he pulled back, watched and Tony's moans deepened as if they were being drawn back by the movement of Bruce's hips, before he pushed down again, this time all the way.

Tony's eyes flashed silver, his teeth grew sharp again and he made a growling, whining sound of need. Bruce froze, but Tony grasped at him, gripping Bruce’s hips.

"It's okay," said Tony, "just... it's fine. Go slow. Fuck," he clenched his teeth.

"Remember to breathe," said Bruce, leaning down, kissing him, mindful of his canines. "You're taking my energy into you when you draw my breath, and I'm taking yours."

Instead of complaining about 'that hippie stuff,' Tony moaned again, his hands coming up, clutching at his arms. Bruce forced his mind to relax, to move away from worry about the possibility of transformation. He focused instead on Tony's pulse, on his every movement. Tony's mouth was opening just a little wider with each thrust, his breaths getting deeper. Bruce fought to control himself, keeping each movement measured, precise. He leaned down, kissed Tony, groaning at what the pressure was doing to him and Tony rocked his hips up to meet him.

He didn't know how long it lasted, the two of them moving, shifting, trying different positions, gentle touching and kissing while Bruce just stopped, kept Tony inside, let him _feel._ When Tony finally came silver blazed in his eyes and he arched, teeth sunk hard enough into his lower lip to draw blood.

He looked beautiful, his eyes so wide. In that moment pieces of the transformation rippled down him, sheets ripped under his hands, muscles swept down his torso. Tony threw his head back and cried out, the sound somewhere between human and a growl, and Bruce pressed his lips to his throat to feel the shift of his trachea and esophagus for just a moment.

"Your turn, Bruce," Tony's words were husky against his ear, and Bruce shuddered as Tony's pinned him, made a fist around Bruce’s cock and slowly began to pump in time with each thrust.

Bruce came, gasping and twisting, Tony clenched tight around him. He caught Tony's eyes and felt it, then, the thing he'd only suspected and had been afraid to really voice, because Bruce knew he never got nice things, was never really able to keep them.

 _I am completely in love with you,_ he thought, kissing him, wrapping his arms around Tony once his orgasm finished and he was drifting in the post coital feeling.

After a minute or so Tony slipped out of him and their kisses grew sleepy. Bruce wondered what time it was, wondered exactly how long it had been since his phone had rumbled from a phone call from Ana, and dropped his head onto Tony's shoulder.

"Fuck, Bruce, that-"

"Mm," he said, kissing the closest spot of skin. "Let's not talk about how we should have tried that sooner and just sleep for a bit."

"I'm down with that."

Tony's lips pressed against the top of his head and Bruce sighed and drifted off to the sound of rain.

++

Tony woke up feeling hungry. He opened his eyes, turned his head to see the mess of Bruce's curls. He smiled, stroked his hair. He had no idea how long they'd been sleeping for, but he still felt completely blissed out. He wouldn't cluck his tongue at tantric sex again.

He kissed the top of Bruce's head, breathing deep. He loved Bruce's scent, the richness of it. Honey, cinnamon, sweet and savory. He also smelled like _Tony,_ and that made something rumble deep inside of him, and a swell of tingling pleasure rolled down his spine. Bruce was theirs, now. He was so relaxed he could hardly be bothered by the idea that it had gone from simply Tony to him and the wolf.

Tony grunted when Bruce rolled, pressing on his bladder. "Okay, big guy," he said, shifting his arm off. He got out of bed slowly, so he wouldn't wake Bruce up, and headed for the washroom.

He needed a shower, but he didn't want to get Bruce's smell off of his skin. He was grinning at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands, wondering how obvious it would have been he just had sex for the first time in seven months, and what was _more,_ he'd probably had the best sex he could remember having.

He opened a fresh bag of jerky and ripped a piece off, chewing it as he looked out the window. The roar of the rain was less than it had been the day before as the typhoon drew to its end, but Bruce warned him it could be a few days before there was much in the way of sunshine. He heard a plaintive meow through the window and leaned over the counter, pressing his head against the glass, to see a rather soggy Senor Juan Cortez sitting on the ledge.

"Bad couple days to be a stray," he said, and with a worried glance at Bruce he opened the window. He had a feeling Bruce wouldn't appreciate having a giant wet cat in the flat, but he didn't want to leave the poor creature outside.

Cortez jumped in, landing on the counter. He shook in a dog-like way, spraying water everywhere, and made another pathetic mewing sound. Tony smirked at the cat and scratched him behind the ear. At once Cortez's demeanor changed and his familiar, engine idle purr started up louder than the rain.

Tony pet him for another minute before giving him the softest piece of jerky in the bag. Cortez snapped it up and leapt off of the counter, disappearing under a low shelf near their tiny stove.

"I won't tell Bruce," Tony promised, wiping up the splatter off of the counter and floor, including the small wet trail of cat prints to the shelf. Cortez answered in a mixture of purr and growl as he ate noisily in his hiding spot.

Tony reached across the counter to close the window and froze.  Something, he wasn't sure what, sent a trill of feeling down his spine. It reminded him of the night before the attack on the villa, when he'd caught the approaching scent of Ross's men.

He took a deep breath, dissecting the scents he had. All he could smell was the scent of wet metal and concrete, of water. It wasn't a smell, it wasn't even a sight. It was a feeling. Something creeping down his spine. Someone was _here._ They weren't close, they weren't even within a hundred miles, but someone was getting closer.

Tony closed the window, hand shaking. He wasn't sure how he knew that, how he could possibly know anything of the sort. He didn't believe in intuition like that, didn't believe in any sort of sixth sense or psychic abilities short of someone with the X-gene. But he was starting to know all sorts of things he didn't believe.

He looked at Bruce, wondering if he should say something, and stepped back from the window, went to his side. They wouldn't be able to get safe transport away from the Philippines, and public transit would be monitored. Until the road cleared they were trapped. Bruce liked the Philippines for the population, but disliked it because it was an island. Tony was starting to see why.

He leaned against the counter, wondering if he could go back to sleep, and watched the rain pour down the glass.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOT FORGOTTEN

_Stark Tower, New York, United States_

Betty was still overwhelmed by the technology available in Stark Tower. She wasn't used to having free reign with a budget, or all the supplies and equipment she could possibly want.

She admitted, though, as she worked, that she wasn't like Bruce. She knew she was smart and could hold her own, but she'd had to spend time learning everything Bruce knew, and more, about the molecule infecting Tony Stark's system, and spent a lot of time researching the way it reacted to various stimulants and why.

Still, though, she counted all her progress as good. She wished she could use JARVIS, but according to Pepper only Tony had the ability to grant access to his database and servers, so it was a big downside, and ever since Tony had disappeared he'd gone into a sort of sleep mode, running the building but not really being there. Betty thought it was extremely sad, like mourning the loss of a friend.

She entered her most up to date data into the simulation. So far she was certain she'd found a cure - been certain for a long time, but Steve had been unable to steal her a sample until it was safe.

She handled the vial of Mr. Stark's blood very carefully. She had heard of how contagious he was. If even one of the creatures got into her system she doubted anything could be done to stop the infection.

The problem was, though, in mutating the T-Cells with any sort of vector strain. The strange molecule in Tony's cells, which had changed him right down to his DNA, rejected most of her attempts. Bruce's simulations had counted that his cells would behave like a regular human being's, but this wasn't the case. The 'virus,' for lack of a better term, was attacking the invading DNA of the vector virus.

The blood she had was all cloned now, and carefully handled. In order to prevent one of Ross's people getting their hands on it she had it in a safe storage container that she could detonate and render useless should need arise, and she was the only one with access, save for Pepper Potts and Steve Rogers.

"Testing sample: 02-26-B," she said, as the computer recorded. She drew a sample from the vial and placed it into her sampler. She loved the computer, as it could show her a model of whatever cell or molecule she placed within it after it analyzed it.

 _Bless Stark Industries and Pepper Potts,_ she thought, and thanked Steve Rogers too. The computer began to analyze it and she spun on her chair for a moment.

The door opened behind her and she turned. She was unsurprised to see Steve, since Pepper rarely visited. "Hi," she smiled.

"Hey there," said Steve, carrying two paper cups from the coffee place on the third floor of Stark Tower that she liked. "I brought you a coffee."

"You're a good man, Charlie Brown," she said, taking the steaming cup from him. Marble Macchiato, her favourite.

"What?" he asked, looking clueless.

"Means thanks," she grinned. She took a sip. "So how are you and Thor?"

Steve blushed now, sipping on his coffee. It wasn't anything _new_. Steve and Thor had been dating for some time. Betty didn't have much to do with the Avengers, but it was her understanding that they'd recently moved into the same apartment in Stark Tower.

"We're good," he said after a moment, and smiled at her.

She nodded and sipped her coffee. "Good," she said. She'd been rather interested in Steve when they'd first started talking, but she'd soon found out that he and the possible Norse Deity were a thing.

There was a beep from behind her and she turned. The cell appeared on the holographic display.

"Wow," said Steve, and she smiled.

"Neat, huh?" she asked, setting her coffee down. "MIT eat your heart out."

"So what are we looking at?" asked Steve.

She grinned. While she was still good at the lab work, teaching was her thing. "One of Mr. Stark's T-Cells. A T-Cell is a piece of your white blood cells, known as lymphocytes. Specifically this is what's known as a cytotoxic T-Cell, which normally go after virally infected cells or tumors."

"So what are you doing with it?"

"Well, I'm enhancing it with a vector strain of a lentivirus to go after _these,"_ she typed in the computer a moment and brought up one of the virus's still present in Stark's blood sample. "These are the, for lack of a better word, _virus's_ that are infecting Tony's cells. Normally a virus will infect a cell with its own DNA to allow it to reproduce, manufacturing a new virus and essentially killing the old cell. Instead _this_ is modifying the cell, mutating it, and letting it live."

"So that's why he didn't get a cold or anything?"

Betty smiled. "I see you know a thing about the immune system. His body didn't recognize it, and was taken over before it could stop. His lymphocytes are highly advanced now as well, extremely aggressive with invaders, they seem like they could slow aging - the lymphocytes look like they belong in a child, actually - and of course speed up the healing process and regeneration of new cell growth exponentially. The side effect, however..."

"Rawr,” said Steve, making a growly face and clawing his hands. “So, by mutating the T-Cells, will that stop him from becoming the wolf?"

She shook her head. "I'm afraid it's infected him down to his core. His bone marrow, everything. He's full time producing new cells with the new DNA. He's changed right down to his chromosomes somehow. But I think the point is, at least the point Bruce was getting at, was to keep him from being able to shed the virus and infect others."

"So even if he bites someone..."

She nodded. "He'll be able to stop infecting others. It won't be an extreme bio hazard when he bleeds."

Steve took another sip of his coffee, looking intrigued. She noticed he had his book bag with him. Sometimes Steve liked to come into the lab, 'for peace and quiet,' and draw, but she rarely asked him of what. The one time she had she'd discovered he mostly drew pictures of Thor in various states of undress, and after that decided it was too embarrassing to look.

"What about the gamma?" asked Steve.

"That I'm not sure of," she said honestly. "I think they create it when they first cause the change. It's some kind of natural by-product. A dangerous one. When they slow down the radiation starts to drop until it's completely gone. Eventually they sort of 'hibernate' until new, uninfected tissue samples are introduced."

Betty pulled up a different sample on the computer, this a recording of a test she performed. "I was curious, so I infected a sample of my blood with Tony's. The molecules went off the charts. I honestly think that this is something completely engineered. It's almost like they're replicating, and it's almost like they're behaving like a virus. It's completely alien."

"Do you think this will work in the end?"

She shrugged. "Who's to say?"

Betty returned to the latest testing sample and drew it up onto the screen. It showed the molecule itself.

"Break it down, please," she said to the computer. A moment later it became transparent, showing off its inner workings. Betty drew up the DNA model from it and smiled when she noticed a change. She wasn't counting it as a win, not yet, but _soon,_ just maybe...

"I think it might have accepted the vector," she said.

Steve looked surprised. "You mean like a cure?"

"I mean like a cure," she said, and she laughed as Steve picked her up and spun her around.

++

_Batangas, Philippines_

Bruce woke up in the afternoon, alone in the bed. The space was warm, and he could hear the ticking sound of the kettle as it heated up so he assumed that was why Tony had left. There was a voicemail from Ana, and five missed calls, listed on his phone. He called Ana and did his best to explain himself, his excuse coming off weak, but she said not to worry about it since they'd only had two customers in the small grocery store so far that day. He thanked her and hung up, promising a double shift next time he came in.

The rain was starting to clear, turning the sky to a light gray. He found Tony sitting on the couch, Cortez sitting on his lap and grooming himself.

Bruce leaned down, kissed his neck. "When did you get up?"

"About two hours ago?" Tony shrugged. "I got a weird feeling."

Bruce frowned. "What kind?"

"When I let the beast in I felt something, sort of like when we were in the villa? Like someone was coming, but they weren't here yet. Wouldn't be for awhile, maybe. I mean, in the villa I _smelled_ them, but this was just a," he waved his hand, "feeling I guess."

Bruce didn't like the sound of that, but this was the first time Tony had voiced any kind of concern. Even though Agents had tracked them into Laos and Vietnam he hadn't gotten any sort of feeling, and they'd had an _extremely_ close shave in Vietnam that had ended with Paws making a guest appearance.

"Are you positive? It never bothered you before," he said.

Tony shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I recognize it, it's _like_ the villa but I don't even know if I can really compare the two? Fuck, I don't even believe in this shit."

The kettle started to whistle and Tony got up, sending the cat to the floor with an annoyed meow. Bruce watched him turn off the burner and he walked up behind him, kissed him on the neck. He was worried, all of his instincts were telling him to _run_ , but they couldn't go anywhere on the highway in this weather, and would have to wait until morning. The good news was, with the way they lived from their suitcases, they were poised to run at any time.

"I guess we'll leave in the morning," said Tony, staring at the kettle.

"And that's in the morning. It's barely two." He kissed him again. "Let's eat leftovers and go back to bed."

Tony smiled, turning around. "After the marathon fuck for five hours you want to go again?"

"Don't you?" asked Bruce.

"That's a trick question," said Tony. He kissed Bruce hard. "I don't even want to wait to eat."

"That's probably because you ate an entire bag of beef jerky."

"Details."

++

At some point the rain had reduced to what Bruce would classify as 'North America' rain, a light, small dropped drizzle compared to the deluge from the last few days. He was so used to the light of the arc reactor the entire room looked blue as he kissed over his chest, ran his tongue along his clavicle.

"I love you," he said into the arc reactor, imagining his heart beating beneath it.

He knew Tony would hear. Tony could hear a pin drop at fifty yards, now. He felt Tony's hands get tight in his hair, and Tony let out a soft whine in response. Bruce looked up. He wanted to hear it. He knew, logically, he shouldn't care if he did. Tony's love was in everything he did, in the way he always wanted to be touched and put Bruce before himself. But he did want to know, wanted the words anyway, because Bruce couldn't honestly remember the last time he'd heard them.

Bruce half expected a frown, or hesitant reply. Instead Tony moved so fast Bruce didn't have time to process the fact he'd gone from being on top to being under him. Tony's eyes were ringed with silver again, and he kissed Bruce gently.

"Don't look like that," said Tony when he pulled away. "Of course I love you too."

Bruce smiled at him, ran his fingers through Tony's hair. He arched his hips and Tony shivered. They'd already made love a second time, but Tony seemed ready for more. At least, until his stomach growled.

"I wonder what time it is," said Tony, smiling in embarrassment as his head dropped to Bruce's shoulder.

Bruce pat the table next to him, came back with his watch. "Oh wow. It's almost nine."

Tony laughed. "Who knew sex could take this long? In my hay day I could have fucked about eight women and still be looking for more."

"Watch it," joked Bruce. He kissed Tony's head. "We ate everything at lunch, I'll run down and see if Jolibee's is open."

"Mmm! Get a bucket of chicken," he said, sitting up. "And fries. Lots of fries. Senor Juan Cortez has a craving."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Do you want to come too?"

"Nah, then I'd have to put the cat out." Tony got up, hand over the reactor as he passed the window and headed for the washroom. "I'm having a much needed shower."

Bruce smiled. "I'd join you but I'm too hungry. I'll shower after."

"No one will notice your sex hair under your hood," said Tony, smirking, as he stepped into the small washroom. Bruce heard the pipes groan a bit as the hot water came on, and a moment later the swish of the shower curtain.

Bruce got dressed, picking his things from amongst the sheets and off of the floor. His rain jacket was last, and he gave Cortez a look as he stowed his wallet in his jeans. "Mind you don't wreck the place, now," he told the cat.

The cat blinked its big green eyes before it looked away, curling back up on the couch.

It felt good not to be bowed over in the rain. A few people were out smoking and enjoying it. He smiled at a few people he knew but kept his head down for the most part.

Jolibee's was open, its sign bright in the night. He stepped inside. No one was really there, just a tired looking man working at the counter, and the place smelled like cooking oil and chicken. It was basically the Filipino equivalent of McDonalds and KFC fused into one being, with a few other oddities mixed into the menu. Bruce didn't go there often, preferring a small Market down the street that made fresh Filipino dishes, but Tony liked it. It reminded him of home.

He ordered his food in Tagalog, and the man rang it up. Bruce handed him a wad of pesos and went to sit by the window, watching the rain and the way the water sloshed up over the sidewalk.

He frowned, though, when he noticed someone standing in the street. He wasn't waiting for a jeepny or a taxi, or public transit. He stood by himself, out of the light, not smoking, not moving.

But he was staring at Jolibee.

Bruce glanced at the counter. It was likely the food wouldn't be done for a few minutes. He looked back and noticed the man was coming towards the restaurant. Bruce could try to slip out now, disappear. Tony would understand.

He scanned the rest of the street. He didn't see anyone moving out of the ordinary. This person was wearing a yellow rain slicker - hardly low profile. He swallowed. This could be a regular citizen.

 _Or you can trust your gut, Banner,_ he thought, biting his lip.

It was too late, though. They were climbing the steps, walking in. Bruce immediately moved away from the windows, on edge, anger like a gliding wet knife in his chest, ready to push him into the Hulk.

He glanced at the till. The worker was still gone, probably working in the back to prepare his food. The man who came in stamped before pulling off their hood. They looked up and Bruce had a moment of disorientation. This person was familiar, but -

But.

Bruce had no time for hesitation. He'd heard rumors and stories about him from the others, had only met the man briefly himself. He launched himself over the closest table, catching Coulson by the collar. He was going to slam him into the wall, but it seemed the agent was well practiced in Kali as well, and in a moment Bruce found himself spun to the ground.

"I wouldn't make me angry," Bruce taunted, turning, kicking out Coulson's leg. He pinned him, putting pressure on his arms.

"Careful, Dr. Banner," said the Agent. "We don't want your eyes to get too green here."

"Or my skin, right?" Bruce felt the octaves drop in his voice as the Hulk rose dangerously close to the surface.

"Or that. I need you to listen to what I have to say," he said slowly, and Bruce narrowed his eyes. "We've got forty minutes before Ross get's here."

"And you're telling me this why?"

There was a burst of swearing from the till, and Bruce and Coulson both looked up to see the employee staring open mouthed at them, holding Bruce's bucket of chicken.

"Um," said Bruce. "Misunderstanding."

He stood up, not bothering to help Coulson up. He still hadn't forgotten the damage to the villa, or how close it had gotten to taking out a city in Vietnam.

He walked to the counter, smiling blandly, and took the bag. He had a feeling the police were going to be called in a matter of minutes, though.

"Come along, Phil," he said, "we can finish this elsewhere."

Once outside, though, he spun to stare at him. "Explain. Now."

Coulson nodded. "I volunteered for the position with the WSC at Director Fury's instructions. He believed they were getting dangerous and needed me on the inside. With SHIELD believing I was dead I was able to make the transition smoothly, and the WSC thought, with my experience, that I was a good fit."

"And working with Ross?"

"Necessary. I volunteered for this position, too. I didn't want Ross to do much damage, and I thought I'd be able to control it, and tip you off in such a way that you were always moving and never in danger. I found you in Laos, and in Vietnam. I also coordinated headhunts in India, Brazil, Chile, and China, even though the rumours of you being there were obviously false. Ross believed them, so that was good enough for me. Eventually, though, even I couldn't lie about where you were and word would reach him, so I'd find a way to tip you off and have you move."

Bruce remembered Laos. He'd seen Agents, obvious ones, scouting his area with his photograph and had left before they'd gotten anywhere close. Vietnam had been much the same thing, only someone had ratted he and Tony out.

"So now what?"

"Now we have forty minutes to get you to safety. I understand that getting out of this country will be a lot more difficult for you. The WSC hacked Agent Barton's databanks and discovered your passports. They have been nullified. All ports and private airfields have been handed a BOLO with your pictures.

"Shit," Bruce swore. He'd been in worse situations before, but it had been by himself. "Alright, follow, keep walking."

"I have an extraction plan," he said. "There's a safe house we can go to that's off the general's radar. Once we're there we can call SHIELD, and a quinjet will drop in and pick us up."

Bruce wasn't sure he trusted him. "And how do I know that's not a trick?"

"Because in forty minutes I'll be under fire as well as the two of you, and they will not hesitate to kill me," said Coulson promptly. "I believe in heroes, Dr. Banner. I believe in what you all did in New York, I believe in what the Initiative continues to do."

Bruce felt the Hulk rumble in the back of his mind and narrowed his eyes. Hulk seemed to be agreeing with Coulson.

"Hulk trusts you," he said, climbing the stairs. "It remains to be seen if I do, but there's not much at this point I can do. Will their snipers be in place in forty?"

Coulson nodded. "Armed with specialized serum for the both of you."

"Hmm."

He opened the door to the apartment. Everything was the same, but nothing was. Their happy, temporary home was tainted. Danger seemed to seep from everywhere. Tony was sitting on the bed, reading by the light of the arc, only wearing his boxers. He looked up when Bruce came in, his face breaking into the biggest smile he'd seen on Tony's face in months.

The next second, though, his face contorted into a snarl. He threw himself off of the bed, crouching, ready.

"What is _he_ doing here? He's supposed to be _dead."_

"Just on leave, Mr. Stark," said Coulson, apparently unruffled by Tony's leap. He stepped past Bruce and Tony compensated, his eyes blazing silver.

"Tony, breathe," said Bruce, setting down the bag. "So far I trust him. Or at least, Hulk does."

"My only intention is keeping you away from General Ross and off of a lab table," said Coulson. He went through the same rundown he gave Bruce, and by the end of it Tony was relaxed and calm.

“Well, you don’t smell or sound like you’re lying so I guess I’m gonna have to trust you, although I’m sure you’ve got a gifted liars tongue,” said Tony.

“No more gifted than some of the other Avengers I know,” said Coulson, giving Tony a look.

“Touché.”

“So now we get you out of here.”

“At the end of a typhoon, on an island, with no back up,” said Bruce.

“You’ve done worse,” said Coulson.

Tony was already packing and Bruce followed suit, changing his clothes, getting ready. “Leave our things, Tony. We can always get more. Just get dressed. Do you have an extraction plan?”

“As a matter of fact, I –“

 _Snick. CRACK!_ The concrete wall of the apartment was splashed with a clear serum as something glass and metal snapped against it.

Tony’s eyes went wide and silver as several more flew through the window, narrowly missing Bruce but two imbedded itself in his shoulder. Another followed, making a spot between Bruce’s shoulders burn with white hot pain.

“DUCK!” Bruce roared, but Tony was already falling, sending the table crashing down. Coulson lunged, covering Tony’s body as Bruce hit the ground and several more of the syringes broke against the wall. Bruce’s back stung and he reached around, yanking it out. Blood peppered the ground as Bruce crushed it in his hand, his voice gone from angry to deep growling.

Coulson looked up. “Bruce…”

“I’ve got it under control,” he said, his voice deep. “But barely.”

Tony was snarling and writhing. Coulson yanked the syringes from him. “Got a lid on it, Stark?”

“I _want_ to change but I can’t,” he said, growls tinging every sound.

The door burst open and Bruce pivoted at the ground and kicked the fallen table up just as bullet fire rattled through the small space. Wood was popping, pain lashed through Bruce’s arm in an unexpected sting and Tony yelped like a kicked dog.

This was it, the Hulk was going to come out with much more pain, and he wasn’t going to be able to stop it. Bruce’s breathing was high and he could hardly calm himself, hand over his heart, as he started to gasp and his heart began to thunder as the green and wet roar of the Hulk reverberated in his ears.

He looked up into the barrel of a P-90 and felt one of Hulk’s snarls rip from his chest.

_Vwip._

Bruce blinked as something came through the window. The shaft of an arrow was extending from their chest, and the soldier pivoted and fell. Bruce turned to look at the window but several more arrows struck down the remaining three gunmen within seconds.

Coulson was standing a moment later, a bullet graze on his head, blood pouring down his scalp. Tony was growling, a chunk of meat taken from one of his shoulders but before Bruce’s eyes it was already stitching itself back up, regrowing.

“Did you get any blood on you?” Bruce demanded.

Coulson shook his head. “Don’t think so.”

Tony winced and let out a high whine, then turned to the window. “Was that our extraction plan?”

“It will be.”

“Then let’s get out of here,” said Bruce.


End file.
